


Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

by onceuponatime



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 50s au, Feelings, M/M, Sexual Content, a lot of elvis, but i love elvis, butchering of 50s slang, dates at drive ins and diners, im sorry for all the elvis, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponatime/pseuds/onceuponatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’ll be a while before we’re in Hollywood,” Luke said as he glanced up at his poster of James Dean again.<br/>“You’ll get there. Wait and see. You’ll be the next Joe Dean.”<br/>Luke huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “It’s James, ma.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've had this idea in my head for like a million years and I''ve finally decided to write it. I love the fifties more than anything (you know, crappy ideologies and everything aside) because the music was awesome and James Dean is my Life and how cute were the clothes?? This thing is like my baby so I hope you all like it.  
> But first IMPORTANT AUTHOR NOTES!!  
> 1\. This is set in the 50s, meaning there is going to be homophobia and other assholery. I'll put notes in the chapters where it'll be mentioned heavily, but it will be there. There will be homophobic language used, and I'll say when, but please don't read my garbage if it will make you upset :(  
> 2\. I know nearly nothing about Pasadena in the 50s. I researched for ages, but Google only can do so much. Some geography may be a little off.  
> 3\. I'm sorry for butchering 50s slang, and although you will probably be able to guess what 99% of the words mean, I'll put a little * beside them and have an explanation at the bottom just in case :)  
> Also while doing research for this I found out Michael was the most popular boy's name in the 50s. Go figure.
> 
> Title comes from Elvis Presely's 'Can't Help Falling In Love'
> 
> also, this is for @leariningtowritelife because she helped me with the planning and everything and the little fiddly bits and i love her. And also @clemmintyne because she listens to me whine about this constantly and holds my hand and keeps me sane and gives me motivation and i love her also. Basically, they're the reason I have not smashed my head against the wall and this thing even exists.  
> I hope you enjoy it!! :) x

_“Sometimes I wonder what I'm-a gonna do, but there ain't no cure for the summertime blues”_

_Eddie Cochran – Summertime Blues_

All of the moving boxes were still stacked outside the door, piled with clothes and ratty paperbacks, records and his busted record player. It had only been two hours, but Luke lay on the bare mattress and stared up at the cream ceiling instead of unpacking. The ceiling in his old bedroom that he shared with Jack was a horrible pale green, cracked all over like it was decorated with a million spider webs. This one was too smooth, too perfect, and made Luke’s chest feel weirdly hollow.

The silence all around made him feel irritable and restless. The house felt too empty – no Ben shouting at him to lift his sneakers from the doorway, no Jack yelling at him to keep his stuff on his own side of the room. They’d only just arrived in Pasadena after a nearly sixteen hour car journey, so his mom was probably fast asleep in her bed, but Luke couldn’t drift off. His mind was in overdrive, thinking about the other parent and brothers he left to move here. Thinking of the people whose wife and mother had to leave so _one_ of her kids could try and fulfil a silly childhood dream. He had been excited at first, but the tears running down his father’s cheeks as he squeezed Luke’s arms and made him promise to write, and the lack of any physical violence from either of his brothers left a sour taste in Luke’s mouth. When he looked out the back window of the car as his mom drove off, he wanted to tell her to stop, to turn back. But he didn’t.

With a sigh he pulled himself off the mattress and out into the hallway where the boxes were haphazardly stacked against the walls; _clothes, vinyls, shoes_ scribbled on them in thick black crayon. Luke shoved a few out of his way until he came across the one he was looking for – heavier than all the rest, the record player inside padded with newspaper to stop it from getting damaged on the trip. He dragged it into the room by one of the cardboard flaps, winching when he pulled too hard and stubbed it against his toe.

When he had his player set up in the corner, his albums towered beside it and the sound of Elvis filling his room, he started dragging the other boxes in, too. He wasn’t in the mood for unpacking and sorting out all of his stuff, but it was better than laying on his bed thinking of what he left behind for what he might never get.

With his posters pinned up on the wall and his clothes shoved into random drawers to be sorted out later, Luke stretched a sheet over the mattress and lay on top of it again. It was a little more bearable with the music, but not enough that he could sleep. It was four o’clock in the daytime, anyway, so he decided to wait and not mess up his sleeping schedule even more.

The record played right through until Luke could hear nothing but the crackling of the needle running over the blank grooves. He didn’t bother to get up and flip it over, or even put it back to the start again, he just lay there with his hands behind his head, looking at the poster of James Dean that had been tacked up ever since he first saw him acting three years before. He had made his dad take him to the old film theatre to see him in _East of Eden_ and sat hypnotised throughout the whole movie, barely able to shift his eyes from the screen.

There was a soft knock on his door, followed by his mom poking her head in. “You asleep, baby?” she asked, walking over to the record player and lifting the needle to flip the vinyl over. Luke heard the soft scratch before Elvis was singing again and there was a dip in his mattress as his mom lay beside him, resting on her elbow and running her fingers through his hair like she used to when he was little and not feeling well.

“Can’t sleep,” he mumbled, eyes locked on James Dean. Liz brushed his fringe off his forehead before laying down completely, their shoulders smushed together on the bed. She didn’t force him to talk and he was grateful, just liked having her close, knowing he wasn’t alone.

“I like this song,” Liz said absentmindedly, humming along to the soft melody. Luke let his eyes slip shut, just listening.

“Me too.”

“Are you excited about all this? It’s pretty big, huh?”

Luke nodded, picking at a loose thread on his blue jeans. “Nervous, too. I can’t believe you uprooted your whole life, just for me.” Liz tutted, throwing an arm around his waist and pulling him in close.

“Don’t think that there is anything I wouldn’t do for you. And it’s only for a little while. When your brothers finish college and you’re a big star, they’re going to move out here, too.” Although he could tell his mom was trying, it wasn’t really making him feel any better. It felt like everyone’s life was being put on hold for him.

He blinked back the wetness behind his eyes and cleared his throat. “That’s what I mean. You all shouldn’t have to leave your home because of me.”

“Luke, honey, we’re all so proud of you and want you to do what makes you happy, and if moving across the country is what it takes, well then, it has to be done. You’ve worked hard, going to acting classes and studying, you deserve your chance. Home isn’t just a building, it’s when you’re with the people you love and who love you, so we’ll be okay. Plus, your brothers are off telling everyone that they’re moving to Hollywood, they’re more excited than you are.”

Luke laughed, rubbing underneath his eye with the palm of his hand. It wasn’t even Hollywood that they moved to – rent was extortionate there and there was no way his mother would have been able to afford it, even if he got a job and helped out. So Pasadena it was – a smaller town with a good school and small businesses, white picket fences and actual shutters on the windows, yet still close enough to drive to Hollywood for auditions and back in one day.

“It’ll be a while before we’re in Hollywood,” Luke said as he glanced up at James Dean again.

“You’ll get there. Wait and see. You’ll be the next Joe Dean.”

Luke huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “It’s James, ma.”

*** *** ***

It was mid July, so Luke still had about a month before school started up again. He wasn’t looking forward to it – he was never the new kid before, everyone in his old school (students and faculty) knew him and his brothers and his parents, aunts, uncles, the entire family tree.

He spent most of his time wandering aimlessly around the town, visiting the music and book stores and eating ice cream cones. There were more young kids about than teenagers, and no one that looked around his age seemed particularly interested in striking up a conversation anyway. So he stuck to his observations – taking notes in his little book about little behaviour ticks and actions to take into account for different roles, writing notes down the margin about what kind of character each little quirk would suit, which ones he could put together, which ones he would never be able to get the hang of.

After a couple of weeks of mindlessness treks through the town and surrounding neighbourhood, Luke came across a small patch of grass by the river bed, tucked away from the road and passers-by and right at the bottom of a huge oak tree he could rest his back against. He spent most of his afternoons there, stretched in the sun or buried in some novel, backpack dumped somewhere nearby. The sound of the running water and the sun beating down on his skin was euphoric, and often he stayed there until it was dark. That usually ended in a scolding from his mother, saying they weren’t familiar enough with the area for him to be wandering off alone in the dark. She had a point, but sometimes Luke just couldn’t pull himself away, the fresh smell of the grass and the sound of the wildlife more pleasing than the sounds of the bustling, smog riddled city he moved from.

“Just mind you don’t get kidnapped on me,” Liz had said when Luke walked in late one evening, his dinner cold on the table. “I don’t think I could live here by myself and our lease isn’t up for another year.”

“Night, ma,” Luke said, grabbing an apple from the bowl and heading upstairs before she had a chance to argue with him. His Converse were caked in mud, the bottoms of his jeans ruined even though he had them turned up and he knew she’d kill him for that alone when she saw them in the wash, so he decided a fight over being late and letting his dinner go cold wasn’t worth it.

Laying in his bed with his hands behind his head and an open novel open on his chest, Luke listened to the sounds his mother made as she cleaned up in the kitchen and switched on the television, the beat up old thing making horrible static noises until Liz finally got the antenna set up and Luke could hear the theme to a rerun of the latest Twilight Zone. He tried to imagine his dad arguing about finding something more entertaining to watch, and Ben protesting wildly that the Twilight Zone was ‘the best thing on the box* in the last ten years!’. Jack would roll his eyes and continue doing his homework at the kitchen table, and his mother would try to get the other two men in the sitting room to quieten down so Jack could concentrate. But that night, all Luke could hear was the television.

He woke the next morning to Liz pounding on his bedroom door. His book was still open on his chest, his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and the blinds already wide open after he fell asleep before closing them. He hadn’t even changed out of the previous day’s clothes. Before he was even fully awake, he could smell the bacon and pancakes his mother was cooking in the kitchen, some Buddy Holly track playing, barely audible over the sizzling grease on the pan. He pulled off his crumpled jeans and shirt, replacing them with clean ones and chucking the still muddy pants into the corner before following the scent of breakfast down the hall.

“I’m going to the grocery store,” Liz said, putting a plate down in front of Luke and wiping her hands on the frilly apron tied around her waist. Luke nodded, still not awake enough for a better answer and reached across the table for the jug of orange juice. “Do you wanna come with me?” Luke shrugged. He had nothing else planned for the day anyway so he decided to take the lift into town to see if the store got any new comics in.

The song on the kitchen radio ended, replaced by the morning news that Luke zoned out as he chewed on his breakfast. It was a nice day, not too hot considering it was late August and there was a slight breeze blowing in through the open windows.

“We should get you new clothes for school,” Liz said from where she was leaning against the countertop, scanning the front page of the newspaper. “What you have of Ben and Jack’s doesn’t fit you right.”

Luke shook his head, shovelling the last of his pancake into his mouth. “It’s okay, ma. Really. I don’t need anything.”

“What about shoes? A jacket? Some new books?”

“I have enough books.”

“Well if you’re sure,” Liz said, grabbing her handbag from the table and gesturing for Luke to get a move on, “momma needs a new hair do.”

Three hours after, Luke was exiting the grocers, paper bags hoisted in his arms. After sitting for an hour or so while Liz got her hair styled, Luke was more than ready to go home and sit on his bed, read the new Peanuts comic that his mom got for him. Howdy Doody Time was on later and Liz had promised macaroni and cheese for dinner, so it was shaping up to be a good evening.

“Oh, crap,” Luke heard his mom say, and turned to face her, still standing in front of the doors to the shop. “I forgot to get the macaroni. Wait here for me, I’ll only be a second.”

Luke sighed, moving out of the way of the entrance and rested against the storefront. He put the paper bags down on the ground and rooted around in one for his taffy and comic. He knew his mother – one second in a store really meant at least fifteen minutes. After he found his sweets and book, kicked one battered Chuck to lean on the wall behind him while flicking open the book to the first page. The street was empty – a couple of cars passing by, but not too many. It was the perfect day for a trip to the beach, so Luke suspected that’s where everyone was. He wished he was there himself.

He was pulling the wrapper off one of his Black Jack taffies when he heard heavy footsteps, people running, in his direction. He looked up, and across the street could see two boys starting slow down, feet thudding against the pavement and their breathing so laboured Luke could hear it from where he was standing as if they were right beside him. They stopped, right across from Luke, and Luke saw one of them rip up an old rag and hold it underneath the other’s nose.

“Are you alright?” the boy asked. He was tall and dark – hair and skin, and he sounded worried, dabbing at his friend’s nose and apologising when the other winced.

“Bloody jerks,” the guy with the busted nose mumbled, taking the rag in his own hands and wiping himself. Luke could see blood trickling down from both nostrils and he felt a bit sick. His comic suddenly wasn’t as interesting anymore, and instead he looked over the top of it – trying to watch the two boys without being obvious.

They were an odd pair, different in so many ways. In complete contrast to the other, the boy with the busted nose was pale, too pale for that time of year when the sun was constantly beating down. His hair was bright too – a peroxide blond that had to come from a bottle. And despite the heat, he was wearing a black leather jacket. Luke was fascinated with the two of them – almost complete opposites but obviously so close.

“I swear, Mikey, I’ll pound* on ‘em all. I will. They can’t keep doing this!” The boy called Mikey rolled his eyes before pulling the rag away from his nose and inspecting it. His pale skin was tinted pink from the blood, a little caked in the corner of his mouth from where it escaped the rag.

“Leave it, alright? It could’ve been worse.”

This didn’t seem to calm the other boy at all. Instead it seemed to anger him even more, and he started swinging his arms about and face turning pink in anger. “They busted up your nose! You’re dripping blood all over your shirt! They can’t keep getting away with it, Mikey!”

“Calum....” Mikey interjected softly, but Calum was having none of it, rambling on about how much he’d love to get at them, take them on one by one. “Calum,” Michael said again more firmly, and it was only then that Luke realised Mikey was looking over in his direction, gesturing with his head. Luke had unknowingly dropped his ‘reading a comic’ guise, and the two boys had caught him flat out staring at them, watching like some kind of creep.

Calum mumbled something Luke wasn’t able to make out and grabbed Mikey’s elbow, pulling him further down the street and out of sight as he continued wiping at the blood coming from his nose.

When Liz exited the store Luke was still looking across the street, at the place where the two boys had stood. He wanted to know what happened, if the boy called Mikey was okay, and why they were talking like it happened before. His nose was pretty beat up – bleeding and a little swollen, and it looked like it had to have hurt. “You okay, hon?” Liz asked, putting her purse back into her handbag.

“Huh? Yeah, just...” Luke trailed off, craning his neck to look down the deserted sidewalk.

“Just _what_?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” Luke bent down to pick up the grocery bags and started walking in the direction of the car park. “Let’s just get home, okay?”

*** *** ***

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” Liz asked over dinner, scooping potatoes from a bowl onto her plate. It was his last day off before the school year started, and Luke had a knot in his stomach with nerves and worry. He didn’t particularly _hate_ school, he just wasn’t pushed on the idea of starting a new one in his senior year, when everyone would already have their friend groups and wouldn’t be willing to let someone else in.

Luke let his fork drop against the table top, reaching for his glass of soda. “I don’t want to go.”

“We had a deal, Luke,” Liz sighed. She pushed her food around on her plate before eventually putting her fork down as well. “I know you’re unhappy about going, but you promised me you would finish school. Just to have something to fall back on if this acting thing doesn’t go the way we want it to.”

“I know, I know. It’s just, no one ever likes the new kid. Especially not in senior year.”

“Don’t be daft, you’ll make friends! You’re sweet and intelligent and cute, and any-”

Luke covered his face with his hands. “Ma, cut it out, jeez.”

His mother laughed, reaching over to ruffle his fringe. “Eat up, pumpkin.”

*** *** ***

Luke stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the school in front of him. The area around him was flooded with students pushing their way forward and through the open double doors. The number of first day back conversations were loud and barley decipherable, all mixing together in one giant, excited hum. He audibly swallowed as he waited for the crowd to thin out a bit before he even chanced going inside. It took a few minutes, but eventually the path to the doorway was clear. Luke hoisted his satchel onto his shoulder and made his way up the stairs and through the doors. He felt out of place immediately. Everyone was in groups at their lockers, jumping on each other’s backs and hollering across the hallway. No one even gave him so much as a glace as he stood there, trying to work out where to go or find someone who looked like they would be willing to help.

He didn’t move from his spot until the warning bell went off, and even then, as a stampede of students nearly knocked him over trying to get to their classes, he stood there looking for a sign to direct him to the office or something. The hallway was empty apart from a couple making out against a wall and Luke really didn’t want to interrupt. He was at a loss, spinning around in a circle searching for the office to pick up a timetable and a map.

He was just about to start walking when he heard the door behind him swing open and the sound of rubber soles squeaking over the linoleum floor, followed by a voice that was vaguely familiar. “First day back and already we’re gonna get a tardy. This has to be a new record.”

Luke turned to look at the new comers, eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to place the voice. But soon as his eyes landed on the pair, he remembered them immediately. The fact that the blond still had a pretty dark bruise just underneath his lip and his plump bottom lip was still a little split just confirmed it. He was wearing the same leather jacket as before. They were shuffling in slowly, not looking bothered at all by the fact that they were late, and Luke would have asked them for directions if he hadn’t been caught spying on them not a week beforehand.

“Hey,” the boy – Calum, if he remembered correctly – said, and it took Luke a moment to realise that Calum was actually speaking to him, coming closer with the other boy standing back and crossing his arms across his chest. “You’re the guy from the grocery store.” Luke nodded, not knowing what to say. “You new?”

Luke nodded again, poking his tongue out to moisten his lips before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh, I just moved here. About a month ago. And I can’t find the office so I-”

“Cal,” Luke was interrupted. “We gotta go, we’re pushing it here. Bellew is going to have my head on a spike.”

Calum shot a look over his shoulder that Luke couldn’t see from where he was standing. “Jeez, Mike. Cool it.”* He turned back to face Luke, a smile on his face that made his cheeks plump and eyes crinkle. “Are you a senior?”

“Yeah.”

Calum’s smile got impossibly bigger. “Cool, me too. I’m Calum. And that clutz* back there is Michael,” he said, gesturing with his head back in Michael’s direction. “We can take you to the office if you want.”

“Calum,” Michael said. “Bellew told me last year that if I missed..”

“Well then shut your trap* and go to class. Tell Bellew I’m lookin’ after the new kid, probably won’t make it to his class in time.” Luke felt out of place, standing there with the two boys bickering. He shuffled his feet and toyed with the strap of his bag, waiting for the opportunity to say that’d he’d be fine on his own and the other two should go to class before they got into trouble. But before he could, Michael mumbled something Luke couldn’t quite make out and walked past them before heading up the stairs.

“Wow,” Calum breathed out, sounding shocked. “He’s never cared about class before. But I suspect Friday detention almost every week will do that to ya. Anyway, office is this way.”

*** *** ***

Calum let Luke cling to him all day, during lunch and all the classes that they shared. Luke was glad. Calum wasn’t at all what Luke thought he would be after seeing him that day outside the store. Then, he thought he was a bit of a hard headed asshole, but he wasn’t. He was funny and smart, and showed Luke how to get to all his classes and that little kick he had to give in just the right spot for his locker to open. He told Luke how he had been on the soccer team for the past three years, and how he was working at being captain in his senior year.

Michael was quiet. He only spoke when Calum spoke to him, and even then his replies were short and mumbled. Calum gave Luke an apologetic little smile every time Michael blanked out for a couple of seconds, looking at the table or out the window instead of looking at them. He constantly clutched a comic book in his hands, flipping the pages without even looking at them sometimes, like it was just something he needed to do.

They were walking out the school doors when Calum grabbed Luke’s upper arm and made him stop. “What are you gonna do now?” Luke was a little bit scared. He didn’t know what Calum meant, if Calum was saying ‘well now that your first day is over we’re gonna let you go fend for yourself now’ or what, but then Calum tugged him around the corner, Michael walking quietly behind them. “Me and Mike usually go get some fries and a milkshake in the diner round the corner. Do you want to tag along?”

“Yeah, sure,” Luke said. “That would be awesome.”

“Michael has a car, he can take us. It’s a flip top*, piece of garbage, but it gets us places so I can’t really complain.”

Calum wasn’t wrong about the car being a little bit terrible. It was a Chrysler, banged up and at least six different colours from parts that Michael had to get replaced.  It was held together by a lot of duct tape and a prayer on Michael’s part. Michael unlocked it, and the door hinges screamed when he yanked the door open. Luke winced and Michael rolled his eyes. “She ain’t gonna kill ya. Get in the damn car.”

The diner was full of kids from school. Luke didn’t really recognise any of them bar the three kids who sat in the row in front of him in Biology, but Calum and Michael seemed to know them all. They all gave Luke a funny look before they turned back to their food and he was being dragged by Calum towards an empty table in the back.

“As you can see, we’re very popular,” Michael said, sliding into the bench and shuffling over so there was room for Calum to squeeze in beside him. Luke sat down across from them and turned to look behind him. Everyone else seemed to be in conversation, laughing, leaning over between tables and shouting across the room. The jukebox playing in the corner was barely audible over the noise. When Luke turned back around there was a waitress standing with Michael’s chin between a thumb and forefinger, tilting his head so she could get a better look.

“Dammit, Michael. Again? That’s like, the third time in two weeks.” Michael just shrugged off her touch and picked up a menu, ducking down behind it. Luke bit his lip, not knowing if he should say or do anything, but Calum just smiled at the waitress, ordering ‘the usual for me and Mikey, thanks Kate’. Luke just ordered the same, trusting the other boys’ taste.

“So, Luke,” Calum said as he plucked the menu from Michael’s hands. “I never asked. What brings you to Pasadena?”

“Oh, uhmm,” Luke stumbled, not really prepared for the question. “I’m trying to be an actor, and over summer I got a few call backs for some studios and my ma decided it would be easier for me and her to move up here. Los Angeles was too expensive and ma wanted to live a little country for a while so here we are.  My dad and brothers are gonna join us in a while, when things are settled.”

Calum let out a downward whistle. “Look at you. You better remember me when you’re all famous.”

Luke smiled and promised he would. Michael didn’t say anything, just absentmindedly ran the pad of his thumb over the cut on his lip.

 

 

 

The box - television

Pound – beat up

Cool it – relax

Clutz – insult kind of like idiot (it means clumsy too but context, I guess)

Shut your trap – shut up (I know you all probably know this but I’m gonna include it anyway)

Flip top – convertible


	2. two

_“Someday you'll wiggle that bottom of yours just once too often.”_

_Rachel – Corridors of Blood (1958)_

 “Have you been to the drive in around here?” Calum asked, sliding into his usual place in the booth  – across from Luke and beside Michael. There was hardly a crowd in the small diner, only one or two tables of high school students and a few other people sitting at the counter, eating fry ups or reading the newspaper. After the first time Luke visited the diner, almost a month beforehand and the entire student body was packed into the small place, it hadn’t since been so full. Luke guessed that the excitement of the first day back wore off. Which was probably why Michael and Calum spent so much time there. The milkshakes were just a bonus.

“I didn’t even know there was a drive in,” Luke said.

“They’re kinda sucky, but they’re showing two horror flicks* for twenty five cents on Friday night. You want to come with me and Mikey?” Calum asked, leaning across the table on his forearms and smiling.

“Yeah, that sounds fun. You sure it’s cool if I tag along with you guys?” Luke asked. He looked at Calum as he spoke, but meant the question to be directed at Michael. The other boy hadn’t said a word since they left school, and even there he hadn’t said much. He looked at Luke, but didn’t say anything, just shrugged and pulled his milkshake closer to him. Luke learned quickly not to take it personally. Michael hardly ever spoke to anyone that wasn’t Calum.

Calum looked at Michael with a small frown on his face before he turned towards Luke. “Of course! Michael and me will pick you up around seven, won’t we, Mikey?” Michael grunted around the straw in his mouth and messed with the stem of the cherry from his milkshake.

“The drive in?” Liz inquired when Luke had to ask her for the money to go. “With who?”

“Couple of friends from school,” Luke said, and then couldn’t help but wonder if Michael would thump him or not for calling him a friend. Calum had assured him a number of times that that was just the way Michael _was,_ and it would take a little time for him to come around. It had just been Calum and Michael for long, Calum had said, and Michael wasn’t really a people person.

Liz looked at him sceptically, but pulled her purse from her bag anyway. “Any girls going?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“No, ma,” Luke said, rolling his eyes. “Just Calum and Michael. Both guys.”

“Okay, okay.” She held her hand out, a dollar note in her palm.

“It’s only a quarter, ma,” Luke said, reluctant to take the money. They weren’t poor, but they weren’t rich, either. “I’ll take you back the rest.”

A horn honked out front and Luke recognised it as the squawk of Michael’s ‘baby’. He looked over his shoulder at the door, and then back to Liz who put the money is his hand and shoved him towards the door. “Buy yourself a popcorn or something nice. And don’t be home too late!”

Luke slid into the back of the car and barely had the door shut before Michael was putting the car in gear and driving off. There was some scratchy tape plugged into the cassette player, but it was turned down too low for Luke to really hear, so he just rested his elbows on the back of the long front seat. “Know what movies they’re gonna be showing?” he asked, resting his cheek against his arm. Calum rooted around in the glove box before pulling out a crumpled flyer and handing it to Luke.

“’I Was a Teenage Werewolf’ and ‘Corridors of Blood’?” Luke asked, face scrunched in confusion. “I thought these were supposed to flop*?” Michael and Calum laughed from the front seat, and Luke felt like he was missing something. He raised his eyes from the flyer to see the other two boys in the front seat sharing a look.

“That’s why we’re going to see ‘em, you doofus,” Michael said, and Luke was a little taken aback. Michael had never spoken his much in front of him let alone _to_ him. “Nothing like crappy special effects, terrible acting and really bad fake blood to liven up a Friday night.”

Calum swivelled his head around to face Luke, smile on his face so big his eyes were crinkled at the corners. He gave Luke a quick thumbs up before facing the front again and giving Michael’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “They’re so bad they’re good,” Calum said. “A right big tickle*”

Luke wasn’t sure why they referred to the drive-in as sucky. It was far from it - better than the one he had back home, anyway. The screen was huge, with a few rows of seats in front of it, and a concession stand not too far away selling bags of popcorn and cotton candy. The smell of popcorn was thick in the air, and Luke was more than a little thankful his mom gave him the extra cash.

There weren’t many cars about, the reputation the two films had enough to keep people away, so Michael parked the car close enough to the front before putting the roof down and turning off the ignition.

“You guys want any sweets?” Calum asked as he opened the car door. “I’m gonna go get something, I’ll pick up yours as well.” Michael handed Calum some change, asking for a candy floss. “Luke, want anything?”

After Calum wandered off to get their food, Michael climbed over the front seat and plonked himself down on the plush seat beside Luke, the leather of his jacket and the leather seat rubbing together, squeaking when he moved. Luke could smell Michael’s cologne and whatever product he had used to style his hair, they were that close together. He wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation.

It was as if Michael could read his mind, could hear Luke asking himself what was going on because he said “It’s more comfortable back here. No steering wheel digging into ya.” With that he swung his legs over the seat, crossing his ankles and tapping his beat up Chucks against each other in a clean rhythm. Luke tried to focus on the black projector screen in front of him instead of ghostly white skin of Michael’s tummy that was on show where his white t-shirt had ridden up.

Calum came back not too long later, cradling snacks and sodas in his arms, a bag of cotton candy clenched between his teeth. Luke pushed open the car door so Calum could climb into the back seat beside him, squashing him closer to Michael, and took some of the sweets so the other boy could get comfy. “Thanks for the help, Mikey,” Calum said, tossing him a bag of gummy sweets.

“Welcome.”

Calum huffed. “I got one big soda for us to share ‘cause it was cheaper than the little ones,” he said as he passed Luke a bag of popcorn and a few liquorice sticks. “That cool with you guys?”

“Shh,” Michael said, popping liquorice into his mouth and looking at the screen where the timer was counting down from ten. Calum threw his arm around Luke’s shoulder to flick Michael on the ear but otherwise said nothing as he made himself comfortable as well.

*** *** ***

Even though it was late October, the sun was still hanging hot in the sky and even with the windows of the old Chevy open, the car was stiflingly hot and Luke’s skin was slick with sweat. The jelly roll* he had tried to force his hair into that morning was falling across his forehead, and he’d given up trying to fix it, just pushed his hair to the side and wiped the styling grease off on his jeans. He couldn’t stop bouncing his leg or tapping out beats with his fingers, the nerves coursing through his body making him fidgety.

“Luke, hon, you gotta quit that tapping, it’s driving me silly,” Liz said, taking her eyes off the road for a second to glance at her son. His face was pale, bottom lip chewed so much that it had started to bleed.

“Sorry, ma,” he said, but continued to bounce his leg up and down.

“You nervous?” She asked.

Luke scoffed and turned to look out of the window. The trees that had started to lose their green were blurring together as Liz drove on. “Of course I’m nervous. It’s Warner Brothers, ma. Marlon Brando was on Warner. And Bette Davis, Humphrey Bogart. James Dean!”

Liz smiled. “And soon, Luke Hemmings! Hollywood’s newest and most promising star.”

“Cut it out, ma.”

“If you don’t believe that you’re as good as them then what’s the point in driving all this way for an audition?” Liz asked, one eyebrow raised. “Do you want me to turn back around?”

“No,” Luke mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I said no, I’m doing the screen test.”

“That’s what I thought,” Liz said with a small smirk.

*** *** ***

After driving to Los Angeles on Monday and back on the Tuesday, Luke found himself back in school on the Wednesday. He had to push his way through the crowds as usual before he was able to get to the other side of the school, to the small courtyard where there were a few picnic tables and benches. And just like the mornings when they managed to be on time, Calum and Michael were sitting at the rickety table furthest away from the door. Calum had a textbook open in front of him, and Michael had his head buried in his crossed arms.

“Hey guys,” Luke said, taking a seat on the other side of the table. Michael didn’t even lift his head when Luke’s knees knocked against his underneath the table.

“We thought you were dead,” Michael said, his voice muffled by his arms.

Calum gave him a small smack on the shoulder and told him to hush up. “We didn’t think you were dead. We were just worried you were sick or something. Where were you, anyway?”

“I had a screen test in Los Angeles for Warner Brothers. Ma drove me up on Monday and we got back yesterday. Did I miss anything?”

Michael scoffed, and Calum gave him a nudge with his shoulder before he turned to face Luke again. “Jeez,” Calum said, sounding impressed. “You weren’t kidding about this whole actor thing.”

Luke was about to respond when the warning bell cut him off and everyone around him started shuffling out of the courtyard and into the school. Neither Michael nor Calum made a move to stand up, so Luke just put the strap of his bag on his shoulder and waited for them to make a move. They all had English together in one of the second floor classrooms, and the longer they sat, the more anxious Luke was for them to leave.

Calum sighed and put his book into his rucksack before he shoved Michael’s shoulder. “C’mon, you doof.”

Michael huffed out a breath that Luke saw more than heard, his shoulders rising and falling. “Don’t bug* me, man. I’m not in the mood.”

Calum rubbed the spot between Michael’s shoulder blades. “Mike, we really gotta get a move on. Do you wanna take home another complaint?”  Michael groaned and Calum patted his shoulder reassuringly. “C’mon. We’ll make it before last call.”

When Michael lifted his head from his arms, Luke’s eyes almost bugged out in surprise and his mouth hung open. “Jesus Christ,” he said, staring at the bright purple bruise on Michael’s left cheek, not too far away from his eye. It was swollen, and there was a neat little cut on Michael’s cheekbone, obviously not too old as there was still pus seeping from the pink ointment he had dabbed on to it. It was a close call, any higher and Michael’s eye probably would have been swollen shut. The bottom eyelid was already a little bit puffed out. “Michael..”

“Leave it,” Michael said. Calum chewed his lip nervously, looking between Michael and Luke.

“What happened?” Luke asked, still in shock.

“Are you writing a book?* I said leave it, nothing happened.”

“Michael,” Calum warned, grabbing Michael’s forearm.

“But, your cheek, it’s...”

“I think it looks real fuckin’ pretty, don’t you?” Michael growled, and gave a sarcastic little smile that made the cut open and start bleeding again. Luke flinched back, looking at Calum for a bit of help.

“I..” Luke started, but Calum interrupted him.

“Michael, cool it.*”

“Whatever,” Michael mumbled, standing up from the table and slinging his bag onto his back. “We gotta get to class.” He turned and left, not even glancing back at Calum and Luke.

Before he could even open his mouth to ask what had just happened, Calum stood up and waved him off, told him to ‘just forget about it.’

Luke stood to leave after Calum, but didn’t forget about it at all.

*** *** ***

“I’m sorry I was a bit of an ass earlier,” Michael said as he ran his hands over the steering wheel. Luke was sitting in the front seat beside him, parked in the school parking lot and looking out across the running track to the football field where Calum was engrossed in a game of soccer. When Calum had told Michael and Luke that he had soccer practice after school, Luke had been expecting to walk home by himself, not for Michael to grab his arm in the hallway and pull him towards his car. They never did anything without Calum before, never even drove home, but Michael pulled the car around to face the pitch, turned on some Elvis cassette, and that was how they sat for the first fifteen minutes. When Michael finally spoke, Luke nearly jumped out of his skin. (He thought Calum _may_ have put Michael up to this, but he wasn’t going to complain.)

The bruise on Michael’s cheek looked just as painful as it had that morning, but by the time the school day was over it had at least stopped bleeding. Michael kept running his fingers over his cheek, turning the harsh purple white for a few seconds, and Luke wanted to reach out and make him stop, but couldn’t.

“It’s okay,” he said instead, still looking at Michael’s cheek.

“It’s just...I’m not in a particularly great mood today.”

“Well, that’s understandable, I guess.”

Michael shook his head, biting his bottom lip. “I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Luke nodded, not looking at Michael but instead his eyes followed Calum, running up and down the pitch. There was an awkward silence that had Luke messing the hem of his shirt, and Michael studying a cassette case reverently before taking Elvis out and shoving Little Richard in. It was the longest he and Michael had ever been alone, and Luke couldn’t think of anything to say to him, wracked his brain for something funny or interesting. Or even just words.

“Did you tell the principal?” is what he asked, looking away from Calum and meeting Michael’s eyes.

“What?” Michael asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Uh, they guys that did it. Did you tell the principal?”

“Oh, uh, no. I didn’t. Just drop it, okay? Forget it happened.”

Luke’s eyes immediately locked on the mark on Michael’s otherwise pale face and he nodded solemnly. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget it. “Yeah, sorry.”

“No, don’t say sorry, I just,” Michael said, throwing his head back against the seat and closing his eyes, jaw set. “I didn’t see who it was.” Luke knew straight away that Michael was lying, but let it drop and once again let his eyes wander to Calum, who was then slightly more pink and sweaty.

“He should be finished in a few minutes. Ten, at most.” It took Luke a second or two to register that Michael was talking about Calum, and when he did he just said ‘oh’. “We usually go for some ‘shakes and fries afterwards. Did everyday last year. You’re coming along, right?”

Luke smiled. “Sure.”

“And the sock hop? On Friday night? It’s on in the school gymnasium. Are you gonna come to that?”

“Sounds great.”

 

 

 

 

 

Flicks – movie

Flop – be really shit  

Big tickle – really funny

Jelly roll – hairstyle (think am era Alex Turner. Beautiful.)

Bug – annoy

Are you writing a book – asking too many questions

Cool it – calm down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hey on tumblr and we can talk about michael. or elvis. or whatever you fancy, really. @t1mburton :)


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning - there's a tiny tiny tiny little bit of internalised homophobia towards the end. Like, the last three paragraphs. There's not much at all, but I don't want anyone feeling shitty 'cause of my crappy fiction

_“Well, it's one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, now go, cat, go. But don't you step on my blue suede shoes.”_

_Elvis Presley – Blue Suede Shoes_

Luke lay back against his pillows and turned his head to the side so that he could watch Calum digging through his wardrobe and muttering things that didn’t sound like he was too happy. Every so often, he took a shirt or a pair of trousers from the rail, sigh and shoved it back haphazardly into the mess of Luke’s closet.

“Can I not just wear jeans?” Luke asked, grabbing a fistful of chips from the bowl balanced precariously beside him on the bed and shoved them into his mouth. Calum stopped rooting around in the heap of clothes that were chucked into the corner to shoot Luke a disbelieving stare.

“It’s a dance, Luke. You can’t wear _jeans_.”

“Yeah, Luke,” Michael said from where he was propped on the floor, back against the footboard of Luke’s bed. His knees were pulled up with a comic book balanced on them, the other half of the chips poured into the bowl by Michael’s hip. The skin underneath his eye had faded into a brownish colour that still made Luke grimace whenever he saw it, but the swelling was completely gone and Michael was adamant that it had never been there at all. Luke learned quickly that there were things Michael did and did not talk about. Comic books and horror movies, he could discuss all day, Ed Sullivan and asking Michael if he was okay was forbidden. “It’s a _dance_. How dare you even consider wearing jeans,” Michael said with a scoff, flipping the pages of his book.

He heard Michael let out a soft “hey” after Calum flicked him in the ear, and smiled.

The room fell into silence when the record ended, and Luke leaned across the bed to flip it over. After rearranging his room one million times over, he finally managed to find a spot for his record player and bed that meant he didn’t have to walk across the room to flip the vinyl over. Once Buddy Holly was singing again, Luke flopped onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head.

“Seriously, Luke,” Calum said, returning to look through Luke’s wardrobe again, even though they both knew there was nothing in there. “Have you never been to one of these things before?”

“Uh, no. My old school didn’t have them that often.”

“You’re missing out,” Michael said sarcastically. “They’re a real blast.*”

Calum threw a white shirt at Luke and stood beside the bed looking at him. “Does this fit you?”

Luke held the shirt up and recognized it as his old Sunday church shirt. They hadn’t been to mass apart from Christmas and the occasional Easter in years, but Luke hadn’t grown much since then. He didn’t even remember packing the old thing that was Jack’s long before it was his. “Yeah, probably.”

“Do you have slacks?” Calum asked.

“No,” Luke said, letting his eyes slips shut. “I got four pairs of blue jeans, some shorts and a pair of sweats.”

“And you can’t wear any of _those_ ,” Michael said in mock disgust, turning to smile at Luke while Calum ran his hands through his hair. “What will the people _think_?”

“If you’re not gonna say anything helpful will you keep your mouth shut?” Calum said. Michael made a zipping motion across his lips and rested back against Luke’s bed before continuing with his comic book, earning a sigh from Calum. Luke laughed and threw the shirt down at the foot of his bed before sitting up and crossing his legs underneath himself.

Calum looked up at the clock in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head before facing Luke again. “It’s three thirty. The shops downtown don’t close until after five. Do you have any cash?”

Luke shrugged. “I have like four dollars from mowing the lawn.”

“We’re gonna go and see if we can get you an outfit somewhere, c’mon.”

Luke groaned and pulled himself off of the bed, wiping the crumbs from the chips off on the side of the duvet. “This seems like a lot of effort for just one dance,” he said, tugging on his Converse and tying the laces.

“They have these things every few weeks, get something nice today and it’ll do for every single one of em.”

“Okay, okay. I just gotta tell ma we’re heading out. You coming with us Mikey?”

Michael didn’t even look up from his comic book when he answered. “Nope. I hate shopping.”

“So you wanna spend the rest of the day alone then? It’s still pretty early,” Calum said. Luke had discovered that when it came to manipulating Michael into going on group outings or doing anything that wasn’t reading comic books and going to the drive in, Calum had mastered it. Michael just groaned, and Luke thought that would be it – Michael would part ways with them when they got to the end of his road and he and Calum would spend the day digging through stiflingly hot second hand shops for hours by themselves, but he stood up from the floor and straightened the hem of his shirt.

“I’ll go, then. But it’s hot as Hell out there so we’re getting ice cream.”

The walk into town was long enough, almost half an hour, but in the late September heat it was almost unbearable. Before they were even halfway there, Luke’s hair was damp with sweat and starting to curl at the ends. He was only wearing a white t-shirt and jeans and he was melting, so he didn’t know how Michael wasn’t overheating in his long sleeves. He even had them pulled down and balled in the palm of his hands, but Luke knew better than to ask Michael if he wasn’t too warm and did he want to borrow a t-shirt before they left. Michael kept himself to himself, mostly, and Luke didn’t want to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.

“I was thinking,” Michael said when they passed the only tattoo shop near their houses that stood right on the edge of the town. It was small and kind of intimidating, but Luke didn’t miss the look Michael shot at it as they walked.

“Uh, oh,” Calum laughed. “I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”

“Shut up Cal,” Michael said, giving Calum a friendly shove. “I was gonna say I was thinking about getting a tattoo for my birthday.”

“Your parents will never go for that,” Calum reasoned, shaking his head. “They think the leather jacket is edgy enough, wait until they hear you want to inject ink into your skin.”

“Didn’t say I’d tell them,” Michael grumbled and shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh right, so who was gonna pay for it? Those things are expensive, Mikey.”

“Alright, alright, cut the gas.* I said I was only _thinking_ about it. Jeez.”

“I think it would look really cool,” Luke cut in when he saw Calum opening his mouth to retaliate. “I mean, I’m not even brave enough to think about getting one never mind doing it. I think you should go for it.”

Calum smacked Luke on the back of the head. Luke let out a shout of ‘hey’, and rubbed at the sore spot. “Don’t encourage him.”

Michael shot a smile at Luke, and with the mischief dancing in his eyes Luke was almost certain that he was going to turn on his heel, march back up the street and go into the tattoo parlour and let them do whatever. But he didn’t. He just kept smiling at Luke and walking, knocking his shoulder into Calum just to piss him off even more.

“So are we gonna go for this ice cream you both promised me before or after we make Luke all pretty?” Michael asked.

“Neither of us promised you ice cream,” Calum said. “But after, in case the shops are closed by the time you finish eating.”

Michael put a hand over his heart in mock offense. “What are you implying?” Luke couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from his lips, and just watched the easy joking that went on between Michael and Calum the whole way the shops.

The further they got into the main square, the more people Luke started to recognize from school, walking around in their usual clicks. They didn’t seem to notice him though, except for Pattie, his lab partner, who sends him a quick wave before scurrying off to catch up with her group of friends.

Calum continued to lead them, weaving through the small clusters of people gracefully, and stopping whenever Luke or Michael got caught in a small crowd to wait for them to catch up. Eventually, he led them to a small alleyway off the main street that was slim and had trash cans knocked over down the whole length of it. Both Luke and Michael stopped at the top of it and gave each other a look of concern, but Calum just walked on through, turning once to shout back “Are you coming or not?”

“Uh, we don’t know where it is we’re supposed to be going,” Michael shouted back, taking a step away from the alley and staring at it in distaste.

Calum rolled his eyes. “There’s a clothes store up here, me and Mali come all the time. Get a move on.” And with that, he started walking again. Luke just shrugged before following him, and not two seconds later he heard Michael fall into step behind him.

The store was tiny, but had rails upon rails of mismatched clothing and shoes strewn about the place. By the time Luke even had a foot in the door, Calum had accumulated an armful of clothes and was pushing them into Luke’s arms, shoving him into one of the dressing cubicles in the corner. “Try ‘em out, see what you like.”

“I just want black pants, Calum. I have four dollars!”

Calum waved him off and shut the dressing room door in his face.

After changing his clothes, Luke looked down and the baby blue atrocity that Calum had somehow managed to coerce him into trying on. He couldn’t really see past the ruffles on his chest but he didn’t need to. He hated it, and there was no way he was walking back into the store while he was still wearing it.

“Let me see!” Calum called, rapping on the door. “I wanna see!”

“No!” Luke said. “I look ridiculous. Like one of those creepy guys off of the infomercials that try to sell juicers and plates with dogs on ‘em. I’m not wearing this.”

“Just come out and let me see. I spent ages trying to find the pants to match the jacket.”

Luke took a deep breath and opened the door, crossing his arms across his chest after he exited his small sanctuary. Calum didn’t look like he was about to laugh though, and that worried Luke more than if he had of passed out from laughing. “I’m not wearing this,” he said, as if it needed clarifying. “It has _ruffles_ , Calum.”

From behind him he could hear the sound of the other changing room door swinging open, immediately followed by the sound of Michael’s laughter filling the small shop. Luke was glad at least one of his friends had a bit of sense. When he turned around to face Michael and tell him that he one hundred percent agreed and Calum was an idiot for forcing him into this thing, Michael completely lost it, tears spilling from his eyes when he caught sight of the ruffles.

“You look ridiculous,” Michael wheezed, wiping underneath his eyes with the palm of his hands. “Please, _please_ tell me you’re not wearing that!” Before Luke could answer, Michael was laughing again, walking towards Luke and messing with the jacket. “Matches your eyes, though,” he said, cheeks flushed and tear stained.

When Luke turned back to face Calum he could see that he was biting his lip and trying not to laugh, already armed with another ensemble for Luke to try on. “Calum,” Luke protested, slumping his shoulders. “We’ve been here for ages, can we not just forget about the outfit and go get some food?”

“No, go change.”

He could still hear Michael chuckling to himself, little bursts of giggles that had Luke laughing, too. “Hemmings, if you wear that to the dance you sure as hell ain’t comin’ with us.”

“Shush, Michael,” Calum said, his own voice shaking with suppressed laughter. “He has one outfit left, so the more you shoot down the longer we gotta stay here and look for another one.”

“Luke, you look wonderful.”

Luke looked at the clothes in his arms sceptically – they seemed normal, just black pants and a checkered jacket. “These seem fine, do I have to try them on?”

Calum shrugged. “It’s your money.”

When they left the small shop, Michael took in a lung full of air, and spread his arms wide on the exhale. “We were in there so long I forgot what real air smelled like.” Luke laughed, and gripped tighter onto the bag that contained the new outfit he scored for just under three dollars, Calum walked along in front again, and Luke followed behind aimlessly.

“Are you excited for the dance?” Michael asked, pulling a pack of gum from his pocket and offering a stick to Luke before pushing one into his own mouth. “I mean, now that you don’t have to worry about Calum yelling at you for turning up in old jeans and a t-shirt.”

Luke nodded. “Now I just have to worry about what he’s gonna say when he learns that the only shoes I have are these Chucks.”

Michael stopped and pointed a finger at Luke’s chest. “Don’t tell him that. I want ice cream; I’m not going hunting for shoes.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Luke laughed. “And for the record, I enjoyed that a lot less than you.”

Michael started walking again. shoving his gum wrapper into his pocket. “Doubt it, Hemmings. C’mon, I wanna pick up a comic and get to the ice cream parlour before it closes.”

*** *** ***

“Well aren’t you looking awful handsome,” Liz said when Luke stepped into the kitchen, trying to sort out the collar of his shirt. She stepped away from the pot of stew she had cooking on the hob and batted Luke’s hands away from his shirt, fixing it herself. “Are you excited?”

“Ma, it’s just a sock hop, I’ll probably be home before ten.”

“Let me fix your hair, that fringe is always doing it’s own thing,” Liz said, reaching up for Luke’s hair but he managed to duck out of her reach.

“Ma, no, it’s fine, leave it alone.”

“Alright,” Liz said, holding her hand up surrender and laughing. “Do you need a ride to the school?”

Luke shook his head. “No thanks, Michael and Calum will be here in a few minutes.”

“Okay, well enjoy yourself and have fun. But not too much fun.”

Luke’s face flushed red and he started biting at his bottom lip, a nervous habit he picked up since the move. “Cut it out, ma, it’s....”

“I know, I know,” Liz said, pinching his cheek before turning back to stir the stew. “Do you want me to keep you some?”

Just as Luke opened his mouth to reply, a car honked from outside. What sounded like a dying goose more than a car horn told Luke that it was Michael there to pick him up, so he walked across the kitchen to give his mom a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

*** *** ***

The school gym was more packed than Luke had ever seen it before. He never would have even guessed that that many people even attended their school, let alone be bothered to go to a school dance on a Friday evening. The music that’s being played is loud and scratchy, and it makes Luke’s heart thump harder in his chest. The younger teenagers were all bouncing happily around the basketball court converted into a dance floor, while the juniors and seniors all seemed to be paired off, slow dancing regardless of the upbeat track that was playing.

Luke stood with Michael and Calum at the edge of the court, drinking punch and watching the other people dance.

“Well this is a hoot,” Michael said, putting his empty plastic cup on the table behind him. “I’m gonna go walk around a bit, I’ll catch you later.”

Before Michael could get to far away, Calum grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him back. Luke watched as the two of them seemed to have a conversation with their eyes before Michael eventually pulled his arm away and said something that Luke couldn’t entirely make out, but that made Calum’s shoulders slump anyway.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I know what I’m doing,” Michael said, before saluting goodbye and pushing his way through the group of people dancing to get to the door of the gymnasium.

“Are you okay?” Calum asked, leaning into Luke so he’d be heard. “They’re usually not as packed as this, and are therefore more fun. It must just be because it’s the first one after summer holidays.”

“Nah, I’m having a good time,” Luke said, smiling at Calum. And it was true – he was having a good time. Back at his old school, this kind of thing never happened that often, and when it did, it was never to this extent. There were streamers and decorations strung up all over the gym, and a little disco ball hung from each of the basketball hoops.

When the mood changed and the slow songs were being played, a short, pretty girl asked Calum to dance. Luke recognised her as one of the cheerleaders that shared the soccer field during Calum’s practices. He didn’t know her name, but she was pretty cute, and Calum seemed smitten that she asked him to dance, his smile falling from his face when he looked back over at Luke.

“I don’t wanna leave you alone...”

Luke shoved him towards the girl, whose smile was a second away from tearing her cheeks. “Enjoy yourself, I’m gonna try find Michael or something. Go, I’ll be okay.” Calum shot Luke one last look over his shoulder before allowing the girl to lead him to the centre of the dance floor and place her hands on his waist.

Luke grabbed another cup before starting to walk around the gymnasium, to see if he could spot anyone from his classes that he could kill time with. The music that was being played was still slow, and most of the people were paired up on the dance floor, chaperones walking around and putting space between some of the couples.

After twenty or so minutes of wandering about, Luke headed towards the door of the gym. It was so hot it was almost suffocating inside and he needed some air to cool down a little. He dropped his half full cup into the trash bin by the door on the way out and sighed when the cool night air brushed against his sweaty cheeks.

There was nobody hanging around the outside of the gym, not even the smokers, and Luke rested back against the cold concrete for a moment, just looking up at the stars, the music from inside loud enough to be heard where he was standing.

The night was almost silent apart from the dull thud of the music, and when Luke heard someone laugh somewhere behind the gym, he almost jumped out of his skin. He was about to head back inside, maybe see if Calum was done dancing and ask if they were going home anytime soon when he heard someone talking, and he _knew_ that voice. It was Michael.

He followed the wall of the gymnasium, one hand trailing along the stone. Michael had stopped talking to whoever he was with, and Luke had no idea if they had gone back inside. But he was bored and a little bit lonely, so he thought he would chance his luck and see if Michael had hung around.

When he rounded the corner he could make out two shapes – two people, one pressed up against the wall as the other was busy kissing their neck. Luke was about to turn and walk away, leave them at it, when he heard Michael moan.

“Dylan, shit, man.”

Luke froze. _Dylan?_

“You good, Mike?” the other boy asked and Luke’s head was reeling because Michael was kissing a _boy_.

“Mhmm,” Michael said. “Don’t stop.”

Luke blinked, rubbed hard at his eyes to see if he was imagining what was happening before him, but he wasn’t. Michael was necking. _With a boy._

“Michael?” It slipped out before Luke could catch it, and even to himself it sounded strangled and weird.

“Fuck,” the boy – Dylan – said and sprung back from Michael Like he’d been burned.

Michael’s eyes were wide with horror, face paler than usual but lips sinfully red and kiss swollen. Luke started to back away, feet crunching in the gravel. He flinched when Michael held a hand out to him and didn’t even notice when the other boy had ran off.

“Luke,” Michael said, and his voice was shaky. “Luke, it’s not what it...”

Luke shook his head as he continued to walk slowly backwards.

“Shit, Luke, you weren’t supposed –“

“I have to go,” Luke said. He didn’t want to hear anything, didn’t think he could deal with all this. _This_ didn’t happen. His mind was turning over a hundred thoughts a second and there was some weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, and looking at Michael’s hurt expression only made him feel worse.

“I’ll drive you-“

Luke shook his head. “No, I’ll walk, I just-“

“It’s a long walk, and it’s dark. Just let me go tell Calum we’re leaving and we can talk about..”

“No,” Luke said, turning away from Michael and walking towards the school gate.

He tried his best to ignore Michael shouting for him to come back.

 

 

Blast – good time

Cut the gas – give it up/stop talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come chat about things with me on tumblr @t1mburton I'm sometimes chill


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay just a warning - there's a bit of internalized homophobia (im not sure if you'd call it that exactly but im just gonna say it here in case), homophobia (not too much, and no slurs or anything used) and mention of one hate crime.  
> also the lil quote at the start is from one of my all time favourite movies (rebel without a cause) and it's so awesome you should definitely watch it cause James Dean and Sal Mineo good lord

_“You’re tearing me apart! You say one thing, and he says another.”_

_Jim Stark – Rebel Without A Cause (1955)_

With the sun setting and an orange glow being cast into his room, it was too dark for Luke to make out the words printed in his novel. Not that he would have been able to focus on them anyway. As the evening grew increasingly darker, bleeding into the night, and his mother continued with the chores downstairs, Luke continued to lie there in silence and darkness, having neither the will nor the energy to get out of bed and flip the light switch or play some music.

Sometime after the sun had finally fallen and the stars had appeared, Luke heard the telephone ringing and his mother dropping a dish into the sink so she could answer it. He knew straight away it was his father, with the ‘Hello honey’ he was greeted with. He rolled over in his bed to stare at the poster of Lil’ Richard on his wall, and zoned out the conversation until he heard his mother talking about him. “Luke, well, he’s been in bed since Saturday morning, couldn’t go to school this morning. I think he just caught some bug. Do you want me to get him to come talk to you?” His dad must have said no, because his mother didn’t shout for him to come down the stairs and talk to his family.

He felt awful, lying to his mom. On Friday night, after the sock hop, he lay on his bed fully clothed and hadn’t really moved since. He didn’t know what to even feel when he thought about what he had seen behind the gym – Michael with that other boy. The thought of going to school that Monday morning made his stomach coil in uneasiness and a little bit of guilt. All he could remember was the hurt look in Michael’s eyes when he all but turned and ran away. He just didn’t know how to get anything clear in his head, how to even begin to process it.

He’d heard about it before then, obviously, of boys liking boys _that way_. On the news and from the mouths of adults around him, those he loved and respected – his parents, his brothers, the priest on one of the rare occasions his family went to the local church. They never had anything good to say – his father reading a news article about a number of young men who were shot at killed because they were suspected homosexuals. “Don’t know why they’d be messing with that sort of thing, anyway,” he’d said, before taking a sip of coffee and continuing to flip the pages of the newspaper, looking for some other story to catch his eye. His brothers, that continuously poked fun at a boy in their class that had to wear his sisters old sneakers as hand-me-downs, that had a pink toe cap and design down the sides. He’d tried covering it with black poster paint, and when it started cracking before finally washing away during a week full of rain, the boys in his class were delighted to find that semester’s (at least) teasing material. Luke never understood it, why Jack made jokes about that boy with the pink shoes, calling him names that had their mother frowning at the dinner table and Ben laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. Luke himself had to wear hand-me-downs most of the time because coming third meant that new clothes were a rarity, and he just counted himself lucky that both his older siblings were boys.

That Sunday at church, when the priest stood up at the altar with a sombre look on his face, he asked the congregation to pray for Rose Morgan’s son Peter, who had run off and left his mother behind to be with another man, when the communion was handed out and everyone was waiting for the final blessing. He then went on to say it was wrong, evil, that only love between a man and a woman would be acceptable in the eyes of God, and to go against that was a sin that would no doubt be punished. Luke was thirteen, one week after having his first kiss with Laura Evans, and still high on it that he had barely been listening to the rest of the service. It was the change in tone, the tense atmosphere, the murmuring, that pulled him from his daydreams and made him listen. Rose Morgan wasn’t in the church that Sunday morning, and would not be in it again until the day of her own funeral. “It turns its back to my boy, I turn my back to it,” she said to anyone who would listen.

Luke thought of all these things as he lay on his bed, with his mother talking to his father who was still on the other side of the country on the phone in the hallway, a one sided conversation Luke didn’t care too much to hear. The curtains blew gently in the autumn breeze coming from the open window, and Luke could hear a group of men shouting and laughing, presumably on their way to the pub one block over.

Luke lay on his bed, thinking of the horrible sermon, the old priest who stood and told those who were listening all about love, what love was right and what love was wrong. Luke wasn’t religious, except for those Sundays where mass was no option and it was time to show their faces to the neighbours, the ‘look what a perfect little holy family we are’ facade that everyone had to put on. Even if they spent their nights drinking whiskey and cheating on their spouses or stealing money from their parents wallets, on Sunday none of that mattered as long as you were dressed nicely and pretended like everything was okay. He thought about how people whispered about Rose’s absence while the sermon was still going on, tapping shoulders and whispering behind handkerchiefs. He thought about how his mother put her hand on his thigh and squeezed, his brothers looked at each other with wide eyes. He thought about the old woman behind him, who almost choked on the gasp of air she took in. The man who said “Oh my Christ,” a little too loud, but no one paid any mind because it wasn’t the most shocking thing they had heard that morning.

He thought of all these things, and then he thought of Michael, and nothing made sense anymore. Michael, who was quiet and loud at the same time, who loved comic books and the Mickey Mouse Club, his car and milkshakes after school. He thought of his leather jacket that he wore even in the sweltering heat, the smell of peroxide that lingered on him the mornings after he bleached his hair. Michael; pressed up against the gym, another boy’s hands on his hips and lips covering his. Michael with the busted lip, the pale tummy that stood out in the dark night as they waited for Calum to come back from the snack stall.

He thought about all these things, the horrible things that people said and the accusations that they made, and he thought about Michael, who was odd and brash but treated Luke better than a lot of the people in his old school. Michael, who giggled to himself when he was hiding behind Charlie Brown or Garfield, and drove Luke home every day. Michael wasn’t ‘evil’, wasn’t someone who deserved to be shot while someone else’s father read it out from a newspaper over breakfast. He was _Michael._

He knew Michael and Calum didn’t have girlfriends. It surprised Luke that Calum was single, when all the other jocks had girls on their arms, more often than not wearing cheerleading uniforms under the letter jacket of their significant other. Calum had Michael, who wore abusted up leather jacket and purple bruises, and Luke, who wore jeans older than himself. But Calum had been with girls, had spoken about crushes, had turned red when a cheerleader hugged him after he scored a goal for the school team. Luke had always imagined Michael to be the same, to sneak girls in behind the bleachers to make out with them and put a hand up their shirt, hoping even a little to get caught just for the thrill of it. He never thought of him as someone to hide, need the cover of darkness to do something as simple as give someone a kiss.

He felt something tug at the bottom of his stomach then, short but harsh, when he remembered Michael that night – the messy hair and wide eyes, lips puffy from being kissed. The way he held a hand out and Luke backed away. It tugs at something inside of him that makes him want to cry, to punch a wall, punch the boy who Michael was kissing, to punch _Michael_ for making him think like this, feel like this.

After a while the silence begins to get to him, and he sighed before finally lifting himself off of his bed. He shut his window and pulled the curtains before he looked through his albums. After settling on an old Elvis one that he was almost certain belonged to his father, Luke sat on the chair in front of his study desk and just listened. It was late, too late for him to be up on a school night, but the music was already making him feel a little bit better. He sat there staring at nothing and just letting the music play until the vinyl ran out, the scratch of the needle across the blank groove that told Luke he had to flip it over.

He stood from the hard chair, feeling the muscles in the bottom of his back popping in protest, and walked across the room to his record player. He was stopped halfway when he saw something colourful poking out from underneath his bed, tattered and old from where he had obviously stood on it when he didn’t know it was there.

He bent down to pick it up, curiosity getting the better of him, and felt that tugging in the pit of his stomach again when he realised it was Michael’s comic book, the Captain America one he had been reading the day they went shopping for an outfit for the dance. Flashbacks of Michael resting against the foot of his bed, his laugh when he saw Luke’s suit, his face with ice cream running down his chin, Calum tutting at wiping at it with a napkin only for Michael to grumble and shove his hand away.

There was a lump in the back of his throat, burning as he tried to swallow past it. He looked at the comic book one last time before throwing it back underneath his bed.

He dropped on to his mattress, grabbed a pillow, covered his face and screamed while the record kept spinning.

*** *** ***

When Luke woke, the sun was up and he could already hear some of the children outside playing or walking to school. The smell of breakfast was wafting into his bedroom from the kitchen, and the thought of eating made his stomach lurch. His eyes were dry and scratchy from a night of fitful sleep, laying awake and hearing his clock tick away the seconds until he fell into a doze plagued with nightmares of gunshots and angry priests.

He made no effort to move or get ready for school, unsure yet if he was able to face Michael. Or even Calum. He didn’t know if Calum knew then, about Michael.. For Michael’s sake, he hoped he did, that he at least has someone to talk to about this. Luke would try to be that person, if Michael needed it. But not right then, because he still hadn’t gotten his own head wrapped around it and the whole thing made him feel a little bit dizzy.

Not too long after, there was a soft rap on his bedroom door before his mother pushed it open and stuck her head in his room. “Are you still not feeling well, sweetheart?” she asked, stepping in when she saw Luke was still in bed. She crossed the room and lay a palm across Luke’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Think you can make it to school?”

Luke shook his head. “Not today, I still have a headache and my stomach doesn’t feel too great.” He didn’t feel guilty, because both of these things were true. Since that Friday, it felt like his stomach had turned to stone.

“I’ll call the school to let them know that you won’t be in, then I’ll make you a light breakfast. You have to eat something, you haven’t touched dinner all weekend.”

Luke nodded and muttered a ‘thanks’, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

Liz opened the curtains and headed to the door, turning back just before she cleared the doorway. “Luke,” she said, and the tone in her voice demanded that Luke lift his head from the pillow and look at her while she was talking. “At that dance. You didn’t take anything, did you? Alcohol or... or something else?”

“What? Ma, no, I just caught a bug, it’ll be gone soon.” For a crazy second he considered telling her everything – about what he saw at the dance, about the article in the newspaper and his brother’s harsh words from years before, the priest, the dreams. He thought of the relief he would feel if one more person were to share what he was going through, but then he thought of the guilt. As bad as it was for him, after only a few days and knowing nothing, he couldn’t imagine how Michael felt after who knew how long, how long he had to keep it in. He didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his secret to tell.

His answer seemed to satisfy her, and she nodded once before leaving his room and shutting the door lightly behind her.

*** *** ***

After dinner was finished and his mother had sat down to watch her shows on the television, Luke propped himself up against his headboard with the homework he was behind on scattered in front of him. He couldn’t concentrate on it still, but figured even attempting it would be better than ignoring it all together. He hadn’t gotten more than three math equations in when Liz was knocking on his door. “Luke, hon,” she said when she opened it. “You’ve got a visitor. Are you feeling well enough to see anybody?”

Luke said he was, and started shoving all his books to the bottom of the bed for who he presumed was Calum, considering all that happened. He was a little glad someone had come to see him – four days on his own had started to take it’s toll on him.

Luke looked up when he heard a cough coming from his doorway, and felt his heart stop when he saw Michael standing there. He looked awful. His face was paler than Luke had ever seen it, which only accentuated the dark bags under his eyes and the ripped skin of his lips from where he had been chewing it. There was a neat little cut in the middle of his right eyebrow, and Luke knew it was fresh because of the awful smelling pink ointment that Michael had dabbed onto it.

Michael didn’t step any closer to Luke, instead hung about in the doorway, wringing his hands and messing with his feet. Luke could see the un-comfortableness written on his face, which, in turn, made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to say or where to even begin, not while Michael was standing there looking like he was afraid Luke was going to leap across the room and strangle him.

Michael took a deep breath, and Luke could hear the shake in it. “Calum said I needed to talk to you, but you haven’t been in school.”

“I was sick,” Luke said, looking at the open Biology book instead of at Michael.

“If this is about what happened the other night, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

“I was _sick,_ Michael,” Luke interrupted, and Michael flinched, visibly shrank in on himself and took a step back.

“Oh. Well that’s good, I suppose. Not good that you were sick, that you know.” Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Luke could see the little spark of bravery that appeared in Michael’s eyes before he spoke again. “I’m sorry, okay? About what happened. But if you’re avoiding us, not coming to school because of me, Luke, I really am sorry. I get it, I do, but please don’t ignore Calum. He didn’t do anything, and he misses you like crazy. He’s really mad at me over how you found out.”

Luke allowed himself to look up at Michael again, who looked like he was about to keel over. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, and Luke could see a drop of blood forming on it. “How I found out what?”

Michael’s face fell, along with his shoulders. He looked out into the hallway before finally entering Luke’s room fully and closing the door. Luke tried not to think about all the other times Michael was in his room and about how he treated it like his own, a vast contrast to the Michael that stood before him, looking at Luke with pleading eyes. Luke scooted up on the bed and tucked his feet underneath him, then patted the space for Michael to sit. He did so reluctantly, walking slowly like at any second, Luke might change his mind and tell him to leave.

He sat down with his feet still planted on the floor and his hands clasped between his knees. Even though he wasn’t too close, Luke could smell the gunk on his eyebrow. That close, he could see that it was more than just a simple split. Michael’s breathing was heavy, like he was composing himself, and Luke didn’t rush him. He had a fair idea of what Michael was going to say.

After what felt like forever, Michael cleared his throat and still looking at Luke’s floor said “I’m gay, Luke.”

Luke didn’t say anything, just nodded and pressed his lips together. He knew it since he saw Michael with another boy pressed against him, but hearing him say it was different, made it more real, made it true. The room was silent, and it was like both he and Michael had quit breathing, both too afraid to say anything in case the world around them crumbled. Luke once again thought of the gunshots, of the sermon, then looked at Michael, tried to think of something to say to let Michael know that he was okay with it. A little surprised and caught off guard, maybe, but he would get used to it.

It was Michael who spoke. “I know what you’re thinking. I know what people say, all the time, but I promise you, I’m not anything like that. I’m not any of the things they say... people like me are. I like boys, not setting people on fire or hurting animals.” He was whispering like he was afraid Luke’s mother might come in at any time and hear him, which, Luke supposed, she could. “Again, I’m really sorry for what you saw, but I’m not sorry for the way I am.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Luke said. He wasn’t’ sure why he said it, but it seemed to be enough because Michael’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I was a confused, and I couldn’t.... I didn’t understand. But I didn’t say anything to anyone.”

“Thanks, man, really. That was really boss* of you. I get it if you hate me, but-”

“I don’t,” Luke interjected. “Hate you, I mean. It’s just ... different.”

Michael smiled for the first time since he entered Luke’s room, and Luke guessed it was the first time since the sock hop. “I get that, but thanks. Thanks for letting me explain, and not punching me in the face and shoving me out of your house.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Michael letting his eyes scan around Luke’s room, taking in all the posters tacked on his wall and the clothes strewn about his floor.

“That guy, from the dance,” Luke asked, picking up a book and leafing through the pages, just for something to do. “Is he uh, is he your..” he trailed off, not knowing if he could say the word or not. It felt foreign on his tongue, resting there and refusing to move.

“My boyfriend?” Michael finished. “No,” He said when Luke nodded his head. “He’s the only other gay guy I know in town. We just kiss sometimes. Calum warned me all the time about it, guess he was right.” Luke didn’t know if he was allowed to laugh or not, so just picked a loose thread on the cuff of his jeans.

“Who knows? About you?” Luke asked.

“Just Calum. And now you,” Michael said, looking at Luke and giving him a slight smile.

“Have you told your paren-“

“Just you and Calum,” Michael said. The smile had fallen from his face, and he brought a hand up across his chest to rest on his arm. “That’s it. And uh, I know you haven’t, but if you didn’t tell anyone else, that would be real great of you.”

“I won’t,” Luke promised, and made a locking motion in the corner of his mouth. “Not a soul.”

This made Michael giggle, and Luke liked the sound of it. It was normal and friendly, like everything had gone back to the way it was. Michael was the same Michael, he just liked kissing boys, and Luke thought that was just fine.

“Uh oh,” Michael said after looking out of the window and seeing how dark it had got. “I gotta cut out,* my mom’s gonna go ape* if I’m not home in like, three seconds.” He stood from the bed and turned to face Luke.

“Want me to walk you halfway?”

“No, it’s cool, I drove.”

“Really?” Luke asked, teasing only slightly. “I didn’t hear your car coming six blocks over.”

“Hey, leave my baby out of this! I really have to go, but thanks again for being so awesome about this. You don’t know how much it means to me,” Michael said, leaning forward and squeezing Luke’s knee before he left.

When Luke was paying attention, he could hear Michael’s old engine whir into life, a noise that sounded like the serrated edges of saws rubbing together.

That night, Luke lay on his bed, his hand on the spot Michael had touched before he left, thinking about what had happened. He just needed time to get his mind around the whole and everything would be okay, he kept telling himself. When he fell asleep, he dreamt only of him and Michael, Calum too, laughing at Michael’s ice cream beard as they tried to get the sprinkles to stick in it.

*** *** ***

His mother dropped him off at school, even though he protested that he was well enough to walk. It wasn’t even a bad day for early October; the sun was out and it was warm enough to still wear light clothing. A walk wouldn’t have been so bad.

When he made it to school he headed to the straight to the small courtyard, where he knew Calum and Michael would be waiting for their morning classes to start.

Calum spotted him first, as Michael had his head buried in a comic, and gave him a clap on the back. “I hope you’re feeling better, buddy.”

“Much better,” Luke said. Calum missed the way Michael smiled at him over the top of his comic, but Luke didn’t.

 

Boss – great

Cut out – leave

Go ape – be mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and as always come say hi on tumblr @ t1mburton


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen oh my gOD I am so so so so sorry that I haven't updated in so long like I don't even want to check how long it's been and if you've given up on this I completely understand. but ive literally had the month from hell that im not even gonna go into cause y'all don't wanna hear my shit. and then when all that was sorted I went to write this out and my laptop charger had broken and then I had to wait for a new one to come and then I just ugh. life, man.   
> anyway here it is and I am sorry you had to wait so long for this and im sorry if it lets you down but here it is!!

_“And we danced, on the brink of an unknown future, to an echo from a vanished past.”_

_John Wyndham – The Day of the Triffids. (1951)_

Even before he exited the school to make his way across the small courtyard for lunch, Luke could hear the sound of Calum and Michael bickering. It wasn’t unusual, and was more often than not over something stupid like Michael eating Calum’s muffin or Calum marking a page in a comic book Michael loaned him, so Luke was more than used to it. It would be more out of the ordinary if they weren’t poking at each other over something or other. They both paused long enough to mutter a ‘hi Luke’ when he sat down, before picking up like they hadn’t stopped at all.

Luke smiled and chewed at the straw in his juice pouch while Michael held his hands over his ears to block out whatever Calum was saying to him.“I told you not to leave it until last minute, and what did you do? You always do this,” Calum huffed. “You’re dead.”

“I was busy last night! And I tried to do it but it was too hard.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “Busy? Doing what?”

“Uh,” Michael said, biting his lip and looking a little sheepish. “Research.”

“You spent the night reading comic books instead of doing your assignment and now you’re gonna get detention.”

Luke put his paper lunch sack on the table and took out his sandwich. “What’s going on?” he asked Michael, who looked on the verge of either shoving Calum off the bench or crying into his shoulder. He didn’t do either, and groaned instead before letting his head fall onto the little wooden table with a hollow _thud_.

“This spaz*” Calum said and gestured to Michael with his thumb, “didn’t do Cooper’s math homework and he’d going to be murdered. You realise this, don’t you Mike? You’re pretty much dead. He’s going to kill you.”

“Thanks, Cal. And I _tried_ ,” Michael protested, voice coming muffled from against the wood. “It was hard. And you’re not even in the class, why do you care?”

“Cooper won’t care that you tried, he’ll care that you didn’t ask him for help. I had him last year when I took trig, I know what he’s like. He made three of the girls cry.”

Luke rubbed his hands together to brush off the crumbs that had stuck to them before reaching into his bag and pulling out an apple. “Me and you got a free period in the class before Cooper’s,” Luke said and took a bite out of his fruit. Without lifting his head from the table, Michael looked up at Luke and waited for him to finish. “My ma used to be a math teacher and helped me with this week’s assignment, so I’m pretty confident on it. Want me to help you finish it?”

Michael and Calum were like a mirror image of each other, and both looked at Luke with raised eyebrows and slightly open mouths. It was kind of comical, and Luke huffed a little laugh to himself.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been around someone who said they were confident about _algebra_ ,” Michael said.

“And you’d work through a free period just so Michael doesn’t get an ass whoopin’?” Calum asked and Luke shrugged, taking another bite of his apple.

“Fuck, Luke,” Michael said, looking at Luke with a big dopey grin on his face. “That’s so boss* of you! My ma would kill me if I got another detention.”

Calum gave Michael a small thump on the shoulder. “Mike, don’t swear!”

They sat talking about nothing until the bell rang, signalling that classes were starting. Luke balled up his trash and threw it into the garbage can near enough to the table so that he didn’t even have to stand up to make sure it went in. He hated thinking about when the weather got a little colder and wetter, which would mean the three of them wouldn’t be able to sit outside anymore. But he figured Michael and Calum had something worked out – they didn’t seem like the cafeteria type.

Michael’s locker was a mess, which didn’t really surprise Luke. It was full of loose papers shoved into the back with text books pressed against them to keep them in place. Only the top shelf was somewhat organised – seven or eight comics in a neat little pile with a handful of pens and pencils placed on top. Luke held Michael’s backpack open while the other boy rummaged in it, pulling out copy books and papers before shoving them into his locker and shutting the door.

“We can go to the library,” Luke said, walking backwards and watching Michael swing his bag onto his shoulder. The hallway was almost deserted, and through the closed classroom doors, Luke could hear the teachers shouting for silence. Most of the time, their pleas were ignored and the students shouting and the sound of chairs scraping across the floor drowned them out. “Almost everyone will be in class so it’ll be empty. We have almost an hour, so we’ll definitely get this finished.” Luke winced when there was a loud bang from one of the classrooms, followed by an abrupt silence and then the teacher shouting ‘detention!.

“Thanks again, man,” Michael said. “I don’t think I could deal with another lecture from my ma about school work. And then Calum, as well.”

“Don’t sweat* about it,” Luke shrugged. “The revision will help me out too.”

Michael took the lead then, leading Luke down to the library by the back corridors so they wouldn’t be spotted by any of the teachers who were patrolling the hallway. By the time they made it there, Michael was halfway through describing why his mother thought that Elvis was ‘misfit music’, and didn’t like him listening to it, and Luke was kind of sad to see the library come into sight. It was the longest time he’d spent with Michael without Calum as well, apart from that time Michael visited his house, but that wasn’t under the best circumstances. Luke kind of liked having this version of Michael all to himself – the one who was all wild arm gestures and sentences spoken so fast he lost himself halfway through. It was a vast contradiction to the Michael that almost everyone else saw, the quiet boy who buried himself in comic books and had Calum order for him in restaurants.

The second the door to the library was open, Michael stopped talking and Luke couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The librarian, Old Mrs. Donnelly, shot them a look that said ‘open your mouth and I’ll cut out your tongue’, and Michael waved at her before meandering his way through the bookshelves to a table at the very back. “Like I said,” he continued in a whisper, dropping his bag on the table and starting to pull his textbooks from it. “She doesn’t like the pelvis movin’. But let me tell ya, it’s all for show. When I’m here and pa’s workin’, she’s listening to his albums herself. Probably wishes it was him she was married to.”

“Mine’s the same,” Luke said, being careful to whisper. Mrs Donnelly was old, but after one incident where Calum missed lunch because of football practice and ate a sandwich in the library, he saw what being on her bad side meant and didn’t want to go there. “I don’t know why she thinks she can’t go nuts over him like almost everyone else does. I mean, even I go a little crazy for him. Who doesn’t?”

“Exactly,” Michael said and dropped down on the chair. “Moms.”

From across the room they could hear the ‘sshhh’ being sent their way from behind the mai++n desk, so Michael stopped talking and scooted his chair closer to Luke’s so they could look in on his copy book and talk without having to be too loud. He uncapped his pen with his teeth, and said “So, where do we start, teach?” with the bit of plastic impairing his speech.

 

*** *** ***

“I got a B minus!” Michael shouted when Luke and Calum made their way towards his car. He was still parked in the school lot, backpack discarded on the roof of his car and his assignment held in both hands, raised for the other boys to see. “I passed! And not even by a percent this time, by like three whole grades!”

“Michael,” Calum said, stopping to put a hand over his chest and wipe away a fake tear. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Cal, you’re real funny, honestly,” Michael said, but the smile on his face took away from the sarcastic tone he was going for.

After they had all climbed into Michael’s car, Calum turned his head to the side to look at Michael. “Since you passed, does that mean you can go on Friday since you won’t be grounded for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t know, Cal,” Michael said, checking out his rear window and pulling out of the car spot.

“C’mon, man,” Calum groaned. “Don’t be such a wet rag.* Everyone’s gonna be there.”

“What’s on Friday night?” Luke asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

Calum swivelled around in his seat to face him. “The Halloween bash* that’s on in the diner every year. You don’t have a choice, you have to come. It’s your first Halloween here, and we’re gonna show you how the Pasadenians do it.”

Michael scoffed from the driver’s seat. “It’s not magnificent. It’s usually the party at the diner and then the drive in shows a couple of horror movies.”

“That sounds better than all the Halloweens I’ve had back home. I used to stay in ‘cause I was too young to go where my brothers were going and I was always left on candy duty for the trick-or-treaters. I don’t know what happens, but kids go a little bit crazy when free candy is involved.”

“Well then we have to go this year. C’mon Mikey, please,” Calum whined, fluttering his eyelashes and pouting out his bottom lip. “Do it for Lukey.”

“Fine, jeez,” Michael said. “You’re such a pest.”

Luke wasn’t even surprised when Michael took the turn off for the diner instead of dropping him home. The prospect of fries and a milkshake made him realise how hungry he actually was, and he patted his pockets to make sure he had enough cash with him to pay for it.

Michael locked his car door and slid the key across the roof to let Calum do the same. The gravel in the parking lot was dry due to no rain, and the dust clouds rose with every footstep, coating Luke’s shoes and turning his once black sneakers a dirty grey. Michael fixed his leather jacket so it sat across his shoulders, and pulled a perfectly rolled cigarette from one of the inside pockets. As he took in his first pull, Calum rolled his eyes.

“Those things are gonna kill you, you know that?”

“Shut up, you smoke ‘em too.”

“Not every two goddamn seconds.”

Michael stopped walking and took an long, exaggerated drag from his cigarette, before stubbing it out on the trash can and dropping it in. “There,” he said, still blowing out a little smoke. “You happy?”

“No,” Calum mumbled, pushing past him to open the diner door. Immediately they could hear the hum of a number of conversations merging together, topped off with the soft rock song playing from the jukebox. “I have to sit beside you and you stink of smoke,” Calum said. He didn’t even look back when he spoke, just walked in the direction of their usual table and stood and the side of the booth so Michael could slide in first. Calum gave Michael a flick on the shoulder as he was scooting past, and that was that.

Before Michael and Calum could start arguing about something else, the waitress came to take their order. Luke recognised her as the girl that was here the first time he visited, dressed in the same red and white striped dress, white cap on her head. He hadn’t seen her there since. “What can I get ya, boys?” She asked, and accentuated her question by blowing a bubble with her gum and popping it.  

Michael slid down in his seat while Calum confirmed that they were all getting the same thing before telling the waitress they wanted three usuals. She didn’t write it down in her pad, just said ‘sure thing’ before walking to the counter and shouting “Bernie, Calum and Mikey’s order. And their friend!”

Luke didn’t hear the reply but didn’t need to. He knew Bernie, and Bernie knew him. Calum had worked in the diner over summer to save up for new soccer cleats, and so had been good friends with the head chef and often stayed to talk to him before they left. The friendship meant sometimes they all got to stay in after closing time and still get served, milkshakes that would have gone to waste and fries that were cooked but not ordered. And have full control of the jukebox.

“You gonna show your ma the assignment?” Calum asked, nudging Michael to get his attention.

“Huh?” Michael said, moving his eyes from his hands up to look at Calum. “Oh, I don’t know. Her and pa are working late tonight anyway, so by the time –“

He was cut off when a pink milkshake was planted down in front of him. Kate finished dishing out the milkshakes before she put the circular tray under her arm and stood looking at Calum. “You’re coming on Friday night, aren’t you?” she asked. Luke didn’t miss the look she shot in Calum’s direction, her big brown eyes shining with hope.

“Yeah,” Calum said. He plucked the cherry from the cream on top of his milkshake and bit it before he put the stem on a napkin. “It’s the best night of the year in this place. Wouldn’t miss it.” Kate had a massive smile on her face, and Luke couldn’t help wonder how Calum could be so oblivious. “Are you gonna be here?” he finally asked. When Luke looked at Michael, he was rolling his eyes.

“I’m working,” Kate said. “Never thought to ask for it off and Sandra got it as a paid holiday. But it’s cool. I still get to dress up and I’m not finished that late so I’ll be able to enjoy it.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Calum said.

“Yeah. I have to go serve the other customers, but I’ll be back with your fries in a few minutes.”

“Dude,” Michael said when she walked away. “She’s into you.”

Calum shook his head. “No she isn’t. She’s real smart, on the debate team and all. Only girl. She wouldn’t ever go for someone like me.”

Michael threw his arm around Calum’s shoulder. He scooped a bit of cream onto his pointer finger and dabbed it onto Calum’s nose. “Don’t say that. You’re a catch. She’s always talking to ya. And she practically spent last summer glued to us, and it wasn’t ‘cause she enjoyed _my_ company.”

“Shut your trap*,” Calum whispered, and started looking a little fidgety in his seat. “She’s coming back over, don’t say anything.”

With a belly full of food, Luke rested back against his seat. Michael was still picking at his food while Calum had finished off his milkshake and had ordered an ice cream float. “So, uhm, the waitress, she said something about dressing up on Friday?” Luke asked.

“Yup,” Michael said and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It is a Halloween party. I have a vampire costume I’ve been wearing for the last ten years. You could cover yourself in fake blood and be my victim.”

“That’s not such a bad idea, I haven’t got anything else.”

“I’m going as a zombie. Michael’s gonna do my face all scary,” Calum said. He held his arms out in front of him and started to groan, rolling his eyes back in his head.

Michael scoffed. “That won’t be too hard, look at ya.”

“Raahh,” Calum said, and pretended to claw at Michael’s arm. “Braaaaiiinss.”

Michael, unimpressed, continued to eat his fries. After a moment, Calum gave up and stirred the melted ice cream into his soda. “What about you, Luke?” Calum asked with a bit of the mixture dripping from the corner of his mouth. “You happy to be a victim?”

*** *** ***

“Ayy,” Michael said, his head turned so he could watch as Luke climbed into the back seat. “Check out Jim Stark.”

“The one and only. Nice cape,” Luke replied. He leaned forward in his chair and poked Calum’s cheek, careful not to smudge his zombie face paint, who was fast asleep in the front seat with his mouth hanging open wide.

“Soccer practice,” Michael said as clarification and Luke nodded his head in understanding.

The whole ride to the diner, Calum’s head lolled against the window as he stayed in his deep slumber, and Michael talked to Luke in hushed whispers so as not to wake him up. At one point Luke had said something that made Michael laugh so hard he swallowed one of his fake fangs and he had to pull the car over to the side of the road so he could try and cough it up. Calum woke up then, disorientated after his snooze, and started panicking, thumping Michael on the back and screaming at Luke until he finally realised Michael’s coughing had given way to laughter, and even then he hadn’t calmed down.

“You could have told me he wasn’t dying,” Calum said. He slumped against the window, his breath fogging up the glass and wouldn’t look at the other two. “I wake up to him slumped against the steering wheel, face purple, and all you do is sit in the back and laugh.”

“Sorry Cal,” Luke said, still a little breathless. “I’ll give you status reports more often.”

“Ah, crap,” Michael groaned. He had the sun visor pulled down, looking at his teeth in the mirror. “What kind of vampire only has one tooth?!”

By the time they made it to the diner, every car space was full and they had to park a block over. The place was jammed, hardly any space in between the bodies to move around. Te music was barely audible, and along with the crowd impairing his visibility, the dimmed lights and black streamers hung around the place he could hardly see a thing. Everyone was dressed up with false faces and too much makeup, and it reminded Luke of one of the scarier fever dreams he had.

Calum pushed straight through to the counter, only stopping when he was resting with one elbow on the shiny red surface. Michael followed not too far behind and even with the terrible lighting, Luke could see the grip he had on Calum’s sleeve.

Kate wasn’t too long making her way over, black cat ears poking from her dark hair, asking them if they wanted anything to drink and saying it was on her. She had to shout to be heard over the racket, and Calum was practically bent over the counter to hear what she was saying. “We’re going to the drive in after here,” He shouted, mouth directly beside her ear. Michael was still gripping onto his sleeve out of Kate’s sight, and Luke was almost blocked out of the way by the crowd, but still close enough to hear their exchange. He didn’t even have to guess what was coming. “Mikey has his own car – you know it. You can tag along if you wanna? The guys won’t mind.”

Kate was getting flustered, and Luke could tell it was time to leave the two of them alone. He stretched forward until he could tap Michael’s arm, and motioned with his head for the two of them to leave Calum alone. Michael looked between Calum and Luke almost worriedly before deciding to go with Luke. There was a spot in the corner that he had been eyeing up – free from people and near enough to the jukebox that they’d be able to hear the music a little better. He was heading that way when he felt something tight wrap around his wrist, and for a minute was too stunned to look around.

When he did, he saw it was Michael. He couldn’t tell if Michael’s face was pale or if it was just from the face paint, but either way he didn’t shake him off. Instead, he twisted his hand around a bit so that he could get a hold of Michael as well, and pulled him along until they were tucked into the corner.

“Sorry,” Michael said when they got there, taking his hand from Luke and shoving it into his pocket. Luke did the same, shoving both of his into the pockets of his red jacket and sidling closer to Michael. “I just... I don’t like crowds and you were getting far away and I panicked. Calum usually...”

“Hey, it’s cool,” Luke said, nudging Michael’s foot with his own to lighten the mood. “I don’t mind.”

Michael’s face visibly lightened then, and he smiled showing off his one remaining fang. “Thanks man, that’s real neat of you. You know, because of the whole other thing.”

Michael’s eyes fell to the floor again, focusing intently on his black scuffed boots, and Luke hated it. If he was being honest, he had completely forgotten about the whole Michael-liking-boys thing, because, well, Michael was Michael. Luke wasn’t too pushed on spiders and still needed his mom to get them out of his room, so if Michael needed a hand navigating through a lot of people, well Luke would give it to him.

“Hey, stop,” Luke said, putting an arm around Michael’s shoulders. He didn’t know where the impulse to do so came from, but he went with his instinct anyway, realising it was more than worth it for the expression on Michael’s face. “I already told you that doesn’t matter. I mean it. It’s cool with me.”

Michael nodded, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. It was silent for a moment between them, Luke surveying the people who were shouting and laughing around them. A number of them he recognised from school, but most were strangers, older than he was, who seemed to be drinking more than just the milkshakes.

“I never thanked you for the other day,” Michael said out of nowhere, and Luke didn’t understand what he meant immediately. “With the assignment for algebra. I mean, you really saved my ass and I know thank you isn’t really enough but I appreciate it.”

“You drive me to and from school all the time, I owed you.”

“You don’t owe me anything for that. My parents pay for the gas to keep me out of the house anyway.” The way Michael said it was like it was meant to be a joke, but had a hidden element of truth in it. His face scrunched up towards the end, but Luke didn’t push, figured it wasn’t any of his business. Especially not while they were standing in the middle of a packed diner.

“You’re coming to the movies, aren’t you?” Michael said, looking somewhat happy again. “Please don’t leave me alone with Kate and Calum. I mean, she’s great and all, but how awkward would that be? Like, I might as well just sit between them and hold the popcorn.”

Luke laughed. “Or course I’ll go. As long as they’re scary.”

They continued talking, and for the most part they were uninterrupted. Whenever someone would come over or try and push their way past, Michael would shrink in on himself and hide a little behind Luke, but Luke never said anything, just smiled at him and tried to let him know it was okay. He wasn’t a big fan of being stuck with this amount of people either, but Michael seemed to be handling it a lot worse.

“Aw man,” Luke shouted, smiling when he heard the opening chords being played on the jukebox. “I love this song!”

“What is it?” Michael asked, squinting to try and read what was playing from the little name card on the jukebox.

“Chuck Berry!” Luke said, grabbing Michael’s wrists. “C’mon, dance with me!”

“What? Luke, no.” Michael’s eyes were wide, but he was laughing so Luke started moving the two of them about. It wasn’t so much dancing as it was moving spasmodically, but Michael’s face was too funny to consider stopping.

“C’mon Mikey! Let go, no one’s looking!”

“No one else is dancing either!”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless when he said “You’re a little bit crazy, Hemmings” and let Luke pull him around to the sound of Johnny B Goode.

 

 

Spaz – idiot

Boss – great

Don’t sweat about it – in this context means don’t worry

Wet rag – no fun

Bash – party

Shut your trap – stop talking/shut up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come chat on tumblr @ t1mburton and we can gossip about things and stuff


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay again I am so so sorry for late updating but I totally got lost in 11.22.63 (which you should definitely watch because wow) and then I had to mourn the end of that for a little while and then watch it again. anyway, I hope this isn't too bad

“If you run away from a thing just because you don't like it, you don't like what you find either.”

John Wyndham – The Chrysalids (1955)

 

It had started to get chilly after Halloween had been and gone, and Luke found himself wishing he’d brought a warmer jacket as he hugged his bomber tighter around himself and continued to walk down Hollywood Boulevard. It was full of people wandering around with chunky cameras hanging around their necks and maps balled up in their fists, others moving with determination and looking nowhere but ahead of themselves.

“This place is really neat,* huh?” Liz asked. Her attention was solely focused on the map she was holding so close to her face her nose was brushing against it. They’d been meandering around for nearly twenty five minutes before she gave in and admitted that they needed the map to find their way around.

“Mhm,” Luke said, eyes following a group of women walking around in sparkly bikinis, massive feather headdresses and jewellery all over their bodies. They were handing out fliers to one of the local cabaret bars, and waltzed past Luke without even giving him one, moving their bodies to make the chains hanging from their outfits jingle. The girl donned in a blue bikini gave his fringe a ruffle before blowing him a kiss as she danced off to join the rest of her group. Luke didn’t see the expression on his mother’s face and said “Dad would have a stroke if he saw these women, huh?”

Liz slapped him lightly on the upper arm and told him to watch it before she was heading off down the street again, muttering something under her breath. Luke followed, wide eyes taking in everything around him, the tall buildings, some set for a movie planted in the middle of the street, the constant bustle of the city that he hadn’t realised he had missed.

After another ten minutes of wandering around and getting nowhere, Liz lowered the map with a sigh. “This is useless, I can’t make head nor tail of this place. Give me the address again.”

Luke reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled slip of paper, torn from the nearest address book when he got a call giving him an audition date, time and place. The writing was almost illegible from the speed at which he had written it down, the black ink smudged in a number of places where it had been folded and refolded. Liz took it from him, and sighed when she seen the tattered state of it.

“We’re going to have to ask someone for directions, otherwise you’ll be late and that would be a terrible first impression.”

Four strangers and half an hour later, Luke found himself standing at the bottom of a building bigger than he had ever been in. His mouth hung open a little bit as he stared up at it, and he could feel sweat start to collect in the palm of his hands. He swallowed hard, and looked over to where his mother was talking to one of the security guards at the door, where a Warner Brothers logo was frosted onto the glass. He could feel his knees start to buckle, and all he wanted was one of his brothers there to tease him and poke him and make the whole situation feel a little more normal.

“Luke, hon,” hid mom shouted, pulling him from his stupor and gesturing for him to come over and join them with her hand. “This is him, Luke Hemmings,” she said to the security guard, who checked something on his clipboard and then nodded.

“Okay, that’s fine. Just go in and up to the third floor. Sign in with the receptionist there and she’ll give you a1l access cards and then you’re good to go. Keep those on you because if you have to leave and come back for any reason you’ll need those to get back in.” He pushed the door open and stood back so Luke and Liz could get past him, and tipped his cap when Liz thanked him for his service.

The entrance hall in the building was huge, high ceilings adorned by glittering chandeliers and a thick maroon carpet covered the floor. It was the softest thing Luke had ever walked on. He could feel his shoes sinking down into it, and then the fabric springing back into shape when he took the pressure off. There were pictures of stars lining the walls, shots of faces he knew and loved looking down on him. His mom nudged him with her elbow and whispered “You’ll be up there soon.” Luke rolled his eyes, and continued to look for the door to the stairway.

After climbing what seemed like a million stairs, the nauseous feeling growing in his stomach with each step, Luke found himself standing in front of the receptionist desk for audition sign ins. She asked for a name, Luke’s i.d and a signature, and gave a lanyard with an orange card that said ‘cast pass’ to both Luke and Liz and pointed with the end of her pen at the door near the other end of the hall. “Waiting room four,” she said, her chewing gum smacking with every word. “They haven’t started yet. You’re down as number eighteen, so you could be a while. Good luck.”

Luke muttered his thanks and hung the card around his neck. From outside the door, he could hear the cacophony that was in the room, people shouting and laughing and doing other things to get their minds off of the auditions.

He was suddenly hit with a bout of nerves, nerves that seemed to take root in every single cell of his body and render him motionless. His hand hovered over the door knob, and he could feel his mother’s worried expression almost burning into the back of his head. He was cold and hot all at once, and could feel the small lunch he had grabbed in the convenience store starting to make it’s reappearance. “I can’t do this,” he whispered, taking small breaths to try and calm his stirring stomach. “This is big, this is the biggest one I’ve done. What if they – I don’t know, what if they hate me and send on my tapes to all the other casting companies and tell them never to put me in their movies because I’ll just make them really bad?”

Liz didn’t say anything, instead resting her hand on the bottom of Luke’s back and guiding him inside after she had pushed the door open. The room was lined with teenagers – all dressed in circle skirts and pressed slacks, already sitting in formed cliques and talking amongst themselves. There was a record player in the corner, some artist Luke had never heard before coming scratchy through the speakers.

“I can’t do this,” he said. He could feel the sweat pooling in his palms, even though his arms were breaking out in goose pimples.

“Don’t be silly,” Liz said low enough so the group of girls closest to them couldn’t hear. “I would put money on the fact that none of them are nearly as good as you.”

Luke sighed, and missed the comforting touch of her hand when she moved it away. “You have to say that. Your my ma.”

She carded her fingers through the back of his hair from where she was standing. “I am. And it’s my job to tell you the truth, and if I thought you had no chance of making it I’d have you applying for more college courses and apprenticeships, and I wouldn’t have moved halfway across the country with you. I’ve seen you act, honey. You’re good.” Luke didn’t answer, and could feel his face heating up from the praise. He was more than glad that no one else seemed to be paying attention to him. “Alright, go sit down. I’m going to go for a coffee and a biscuit, do you want me to bring anything back?”

Luke shook his head. “No thanks, I’m too nervous I’d probably hack it up* in two minutes. I’ll get something afterwards.”

Luke walked towards the back wall after his mother left, and sat in one of the few remaining empty seats. He messed with the lanyard around his neck, finger running absentmindedly over the smooth plastic where his name was written. All around him, the groups had yet to disperse and Luke sat wising he had had the foresight to bring one of his novels for the wait.

The carefree atmosphere that was more like a school cafeteria than a waiting room in a Hollywood building was destroyed when the first two auditionees were summoned by a small plump women with horn rimmed glasses and pins still holding the curls in her hair, hidden underneath her pink nylon headscarf. After the sound of her heels clacking on the floor had been drowned out by anxious whispers, everyone had slumped into the hard plastic seats. There was a vacant seat on his left, and a young girl on his right, twirling the curl in her ponytail and telling her friend about the ‘foul date’ she had been on.

The door opened again, and everyone straightened in their seats waiting on the next name to be called, but instead it was another teenager. His face was red with excursion, his jelly roll slightly mussed, the first two buttons of his white shirt undone. He quickly looked around the room, eyes finally landing on the vacant seat beside Luke. He walked over towards Luke, the dirty white lace of his dirty black Chucks trailing behind him on the floor. “Is anyone sitting here?” he asked Luke.

“No, you can sit here if you want.”

He did just that, and dropped down into the seat with a sigh. “Thanks, man,” he said, smiling bright.

“No problem,” Luke replied.

The stranger held his hand out towards Luke, and Luke automatically took it. “Ashton. Ashton Irwin,” he said, and his smile was so wide Luke wondered how it wasn’t hurting his cheeks. He liked Ashton immediately, though, his calm demeanour calming Luke down a little already.

“Luke Hemmings,” Luke said, the smile on his own face doing it’s best to mirror Ashton’s.

Ashton leaned back in his seat and jammed his hand into the front pockets of his blue jeans. “So, Luke Hemmings,” he said as he pulled out a comb and started taming the flyaway hairs that had escaped from his ‘do. “Is this your first audition?”

Luke laughed. “I wish, man. It’s more like my one hundred and first. How about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” Ashton shrugged. “Doesn’t get any less nerve wrecking, does it?”

“Never,” Luke smiled. He pointed to the card hanging around Ashton’s neck almost identical to his own. “What number are you?”

Ashton visibly deflated, slumping down into the chair and flicked the plastic card. “Twenty seven, I’m gonna be here all day.”

They spoke until it was finally Luke’s turn to be called out of the small waiting room. Before he went, he and Ashton traded home phone numbers and gave each other a clap on the back with a wish of good luck. Luke trailed behind the woman with the clipboard, his best Oxfords still looking too scuffed up against the polished floor.

She led him down the hallway until they were standing in front of another door. “Okay, Mr. Hemmings, I assume you have the script we want you to read from. We want you to read it along with someone auditioning for the female role. Don’t let that put you off, I know part of acting is reacting to what other people are giving you to work with, but this is all about you. Make them remember _you_. Good luck.”

With that she swung open the door to a vast and almost empty room save for a long table with three men sitting behind it, a video recorder to the side, and a young girl standing in front of them, biting her lip and swaying her skirt from side to side in some nervous habit. She was pretty, from what Luke could see. Hair neatly styled and rosy red cheeks.

“Luke Hemmings,” the man sitting in the middle called, and Luke said yes, moving forward to again show his i.d and the lanyard he had gotten from the receptionist. He was instructed to stand on the white ‘x’ that was taped to the floor, and turn to the page that he would be reading from. It was a total teenage romance film, full of declarations of love and cheesy lines that Luke doubted people said in real life, but this was the stuff that sold in the box office, and he’d take any role he could get to break into the industry.

He started fine. Although he was a little bit awkward about saying the lines to the girl, Sandra, he buried that under a layer of professionalism and worked on. They only had to stop once, which Luke thought was quite good, and that was only so they could load more tape into the recorder. The casting agents were nodding, whispering into each other’s ears, and Luke couldn’t help but feel it had been going well. Until it wasn’t going well.

It was her monologue. His big piece was said and done, and he felt like he had done it to the best of his ability. He spoke his lines, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and made her blush (intentional or not, it made the both of them look good.)

And then it was her turn. Her declaration of love. It was his chance to show how good he was at acting back, at showing emotion even when it wasn’t his big moment, how he could stay in character. She was talking, her script clutched in one hand that was flapping about, unnecessary for her to look an anymore. She was on a roll, and Luke was glad that he got paired with her.

He was getting reading to reach out and take her hand, and shut his eyes for a second to try and build up tears, or at least make his eyes a little glassy. He opened them, and suddenly he felt the world fall from beneath his feet.

It wasn’t Sandra, telling him how much she loved him, how much she wished the circumstances were different, how much she wanted to take him out and show him off, her father be _damned_. It wasn’t Sandra’s lips forming these words, or her eyes locked on his.

It was Michael. Michael leaning across to grab his arms and pull him closer.

Luke could only stare, mouth hanging open as Michael continued to tell him how much they meant to each other and to deny their feelings any longer was stupid. His stomach felt sick, rolling with something more than nerves and his skin was prickling all over, breaking into a sweat that he could feel seeping through his shirt. His breathing was laboured, coming in short pants that made his throat dry.

Michael stopped talking then, and was looking at Luke expectantly, emerald eyes wide and waiting. “Luke,” he said, his red lips forming the word so perfectly that Luke could only stare at his mouth. “Luke? Luke are you okay?”

Luke squeezed his eyes shut again and rubbed at his temples like he was getting rid of a bad headache. “I’m sorry,” He said, opening his eyes and feeling more than a little relieved to see that it was Sandra looking at him, concern dancing in eyes that were the wrong shade of green. “I’m sorry,” Luke said again. “I don’t feel too good, I’m sorry, can I be excused to go to the restroom?”

The man in the middle gestured with his hand to the door, and Luke shot out of the door and down the hallway. The bathroom door was clearly marked and Luke pushed his way in, hovering over the sink and breathing hard. He ran the cold tap and splashed some onto his face.

“Calm down,” he told his reflection. “That was nothing, nothing at all.”

Except it was. He didn’t know what it was, just that it left the same feeling in the bottom of his stomach that Michael’s hand on his knee had. He groaned, and slumped to the floor, his back pressed against the cabinet underneath the sink. He ran his hands through his hair, aware that he was probably messing it up more than he should. He had to go back into that room and finish the audition, he had to go back and see Sandra. It made his chest tighten again, and he pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his face against them and groaned. He could feel his hot breath through his slacks.

He couldn’t bring himself to get up. It felt like all the strength had gone from his legs, that strange feeling like when you’ve been laying down too long and both legs seem to forget how to take your weight. He sat on the floor, with the orchid plant standing in the corner and the weird yellow light making his skin look sickly.

There was a soft rap on the door, followed by Sandra’s soft voice calling his name. “Are you still in there?”

He stood up and splashed cold water on his face one more time before finally opening the door. Sandra, who had been leaning against the other side, fell in with it and he managed to steady her before she tripped.

“Oh, Luke, you don’t look good at all.”

“I think all the nerves finally caught up with me,” he said with a timid smile. “I’m sorry I ran out on you, I hope they don’t judge what you did based on –“

“Luke, they sent me here to get you. Said we were doing a really good job and they’re willing to give you another shot if you’re feeling well enough.”

*** *** ***

Luke and his mother drove home on the Thursday. He had been quiet since she picked him up from the audition, and Liz couldn’t help but feel anxious about it. Sometimes he got into slumps whenever he felt like an audition hadn’t gone the way he had hoped, but this was the worst she had ever seen it. The night they stayed in the small motel, he barley said a word to her, just kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed.

“Do you want to talk about it, baby?” She asked when they were on the drive home. His head was resting against the window, his fingers tracing invisible patterns onto his jeans.

“No,” he said flatly, and continued to stare out of the window.

He knew she was worried, and he felt guilty for not explaining to her what was wrong, but he couldn’t out his finger on it. Since the audition, all he could think about was Michael, and then he couldn’t help but think about what that _meant_. The last he had seen Michael was when he dropped him off at his house after school and had shouted “Show all those Hollywood hotshots how Luke goddamn Hemmings does it” out the window, which was promptly followed by a “Mike, _don’t swear_ ” that had Luke chuckling all the way to his door.

“There will be more auditions. And you probably didn’t do as bad as you think. You’re always so critical of yourself, and I think ..”

Luke cut her off. “It’s not that, it’s just. I don’t know. I just want to go home.”

Liz didn’t answer, just fiddled with the radio until she picked up a signal and Otis Redding played.

Luke let his eyes slip shut, and welcomed the sleep that hadn’t come to him the night before.

*** *** ***

Luke woke with a start when the car drove over a bump in the road and his head got a nasty bang against the window as a result. Since they had left early in the morning, when they got back to Pasadena, it was still bright and when Luke checked hi watch he saw that kids would only have gotten out of school a half an hour or so beforehand.

He knew Michael and Calum would be at the diner, and he wanted to see them. But at the same time, he didn’t want to see Michael. All too clear he could still hear and see the image of Michael telling Luke that he loved him, and it made that weird feeling boil up in his stomach again.

But he couldn’t ignore him forever, not over some silly hallucination brought on by nerves and lack of food. That was all it was.

“Mom, can you drop me off at the end of the road here? I wanna go to the diner and see if the guys are there,” he said. He could see that she wanted to protest – they both had a stressful two days and she probably wanted him to do some things around the house. Instead of starting a fight, she pulled the car right into the diner car lot, and told Luke to be home before dark. He could see Michael’s old clunker parked in the far corner, and made his way inside knowing exactly where the other two would be sitting.

He walked straight towards the back of the diner to the usual booth and could already see Michael’s peroxide hair standing out against the red vinyl seat. They were sitting on opposite sides of the table. Luke could see Calum had his nose buried in the novel they were assigned in English since he was facing towards the entrance.

“Whaddya know, here comes Brando!” Calum said when he spotted Luke walking towards them.

Luke stands at the edge of the table, about to take a seat, when Michael looks up from a notebook and Luke is met with those eyes that caused him so much trouble not twenty four hours ago. Only this time they’re real, they’re _Michael’s_.

He stood staring at Michael until the other boy scrunched his eyebrows and asked Luke if he was okay.

“Wha’? Yeah, ‘m fine. Just a little gross from the car ride, I guess.” He slid into the seat beside Calum and shrugged out of his jacked, only noticing then it was the one that Calum had picked out for the sock hop. His stomach lurched when he felt Michael’s leg bump against his under the table. Something that had happened innumerable times before but this one time seeming to carry so much weight.

“Luke, are you sure you’re okay?” Calum asked before taking a sip of his coke.

Luke shrugged. “Botched the audition. Had to work in pairs, and I was with this girl and I don’t know.” He shrugged again. “Things got ... weird.” Yeah, he thought, weird was a good word to describe it.

“A girl, huh?” Calum asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Was she stacked?”*

“Dude,” Luke said, and let his head fall against the tabletop with a thud.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Calum flipped his book up in front of his face and started to read again.

With Luke’s head buried in his arms and Calum’s hidden behind ‘Cannery Row’*, neither of them saw the look on Michael’s face.

“I’m sure you did fine,” Michael said, sounding cheery through the small frown that was twisting his mouth.

 

 

Neat – cool

Hack it up – vomit

Stacked – big breasted

Cannery Row – not a slang term but a really really really great novel by John Steinbeck that is super short and made me cry and you should all read it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk with me on my tumblr @ t1mburton x


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOD I am so sorry that it has been almost two months?? Like what the hell?? but I promise updates will be a bit more regular it's just life's been happening and all that crap. If anyone is even still reading this fic thank you i love you all please don't abandon me xx

_“The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.”_

_D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (1951)_

Luke woke to bright sunlight coming in through the window, his mother standing with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. The holly brooch was pinned to her green cardigan, and a tartan scarf tied around her head, so Luke didn’t need the “It’s Christmas!” she shouted when he could finally open his eyes without feeling like they would melt out of his head.

“Merry Christmas, mom,” he said, hauling himself into a sitting position and rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.

She smiled, red lipstick making her teeth look even whiter. “Merry Christmas, baby boy. Church in forty minutes, be ready.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

She left the room then, making sure to leave his door open so she would hear if he was out of bed. He groaned and stretched, his back making a satisfying crack, and he allowed himself a few more minutes under his sheets before leaving the warmth of his sheets. He could hear the stating scratch from the record player downstairs, and then the sound of their Elvis Christmas album filling the small house. His mom shouted for him once more, and he finally got out of bed.

He wore his sock hop suit to church, and his mom smiled when he went down the stairs in his good clothes. Her smile faltered a bit when she saw the battered Converse but she said nothing, just cocked her elbow so he could link her to the church. It was only a ten minute walk, and the fresh snow that had fallen the night before carpeted their footsteps. Most of Luke’s neighbours – kids he had seen but never really spoken to – were out with new dolls and toy cars clutched in gloved hands, walking to the church with their own parents. There was excited chatter when they met their friends from down the street, showing off presents and fancy new clothes for the occasion.

The church was packed, the whole neighbourhood there to celebrate the holiday. Luke had met Calum when he was entering the church, and after quick introductions to Calum’s parents and sister, they all squished together on one of the cold wooden pews. Liz to Luke’s left and Calum to his right.

“Will Michael be here?” Luke asked, turning his head to have a glimpse around the rest of the congregation, hoping to spot peroxide hair and leather. Calum shook his head no, and beside him Mali-Koa, his sister, choked back a laugh. “What is it?” Luke whispered when his mother shushed him. The family in the row ahead were turning to look at them, the father tutting. It made Luke want to talk louder.

“I don’t think Michael’s stepped foot in a church in years. His parents are probably hiding at the back somewhere, it’s not a good thing when your only kid goes anarchist and stops coming to church.”

“Enough, Mali,” Calum hissed. There was some silent argument going on between the two Hoods as Luke sat and watched, and eventually Mali slumped back against her seat.

“He’s cute though,” she said, inspecting the colour painted on her nails for chips, “I’ll give him that.”

Calum opened his mouth to retort, but was kept silent when the whole congregation stood as the priest entered and wished everyone a merry Christmas, exclaimed how delighted he was at such a big turnout.

Luke zoned out then, performing the actions more out of routine than worship, and followed Calum when he went up for Communion, blessed himself, waited until it was time to leave.

Outside the church people gathered and talked, and Luke kid around the side of the church with Mali and Calum. His mother was with the Hoods, her and Joy hugging and making quick friends. “You’ll be ‘round for dinner soon,” Calum said as he kicked a bit of snow over Mali’s shoes. “I’ll probably be whupped for not introducing you all sooner.”

“Me too,” Luke said. “Mom’s been talking about having a dinner party since we moved here but the only person she has regular conversations with is the mailman.”

Calum laughed, and Mali smiled. She was pretty, Luke noted, with her dark hair swept into victory rolls and her small frame donned in bright colours that made her dark skin pop.

They were in the middle of discussing the films that would be shown at the theatre when they were all called, Mali and Calum climbing into the back of their parents’ car, and Luke and Liz starting their walk home just as it started snowing again – large white flakes that stuck to Liz’s woollen hat and make Luke’s hair damp and curly.

*** *** ***

Liz placed two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table and sat cross legged on the floor in front of Luke – the small pile of gifts in between them. “Do you want to go first or will I?” she said, pulling the silver wrapped gift with a big red bow on to her lap. Luke smiled – she was such a child when it came to Christmas – and he gestured for her to open up. She did so delicately, pulling apart the paper without tearing it. It was the present Ben and Jack sent her, a framed picture of her three sons, and she looked at it with misty eyes before waving her hand to say Luke should open his.

He got a Chuck Berry record from his brothers and a few second hand novels from his mom. He opened his dads present last – a red bomber jacket so like James Dean’s and a note tucked into the pocket telling him that ‘if you’re going to live Hollywood, you better dress Hollywood’. His mom tutted when she saw it, saying it was just like Andrew to splurge when she wasn’t there, but said it looked beautiful on Luke nevertheless. That he deserved it.

Inside the card his father sent was a letter. It said Christmas wouldn’t be the same without them, and he would call sometime after dinner. Liz excused herself to the bathroom to dab at her eyes without messing up her make-up, and Luke ran his hands over the material of his new jacket. He felt a little guilty getting such an expensive gift, and felt almost like sending it back, but figured he’d pay his dad back when he got his big break.

While starting dinner. Liz mused about the butcher back home who knew exactly how she liked her turkey prepared. Luke sat on one of the kitchen stools and nodded along, knowing that when his mother was in one of her cooking flurries it was better to keep quiet and leave her alone. Agree with everything she says. Do what she asks.

He offered to help, and after messing up the carrots he was sent into the living room to watch television or read one of his books. He protested, saying he’d do better, but he was shooed out of the kitchen, the door shut behind him.  He shook his head and went to his room to change from the uncomfortable pants into his blue jeans.

Outside his bedroom window the snow was falling heavily, some of it already gathering on his small windowsill and blocking out half of the light. He looked out at it for a while, watched the patterns it made in the wind, swirling and fluttering in gusts as the wind whistled and howled – small ballerinas with their ghostly background music.

By three o’clock, it was almost dark and Luke turned on his lamp as he picked up one of the books his mom got him, flipping through the pages, loving the sound and the smell they emitted. He tucked his feet underneath the blanket draped across the bottom of his bed, and spent his evening reading and listening to the sound of Liz cooking downstairs.

Christmas dinner is much quieter than Luke has ever experienced, and it’s weird. There’s no one fighting over the cranberry sauce or the last slice of turkey, or elbowing each other for more table room. There’s just him and his mother, the sound of cutlery scraping against plates and small talk. Liz asks Luke if he heard back from the last audition, and Luke shakes his head no before taking a drink of soda. He never told her about his freak out halfway through, ruining his – and probably Sandra’s – chances of getting the part. He’s still a little embarrassed about it.

He’s seen Michael almost every day since then, but still that heavy feeling rests at the bottom of his stomach when he thinks of Michael saying those things, the look on his face as Luke imagined him reading from the script. His stomach knotted up, and he pushed his plate away.

*** *** ***

Luke curled up underneath the old, scratchy woollen blanket as he watched _Happy Holidays with Frank and Bing_ *. His stomach was still heavy and swollen with his dinner, and his eyes were starting to slip shut as Bing sang White Christmas. The lights in the room are off, and the only source of light comes from the small coloured bulbs decorating the tree, and from the television. That, along with the heavy blanket, was making Luke slip in and out of consciousness.

Before Bing had finished his song, the telephone was ringing from the hall. Liz almost jumped out of her skin in her rush to answer it, and Luke knew just by her tone that it was his dad. He shuffled about on the couch so that his head was next to the open door and he would be able to hear. Liz thanked his dad for all the gifts, told him how much Luke loved his, and asked of h liked the ones that they sent. There was laughter, and proclamations of love and how much she missed him and small talk that Luke eventually zoned out and fell asleep.

He was woken when Liz shouted that his dad wanted to talk to him, and slightly disorientated he hauled himself from the position he had stiffened into on the sofa. His mom squeezes his shoulder when she hands him the phone, and walks back into the kitchen. Luke could hear her pulling mugs from the cupboard before he put the receiver to his ear.

“Hello, dad,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, kiddo,” Andy said, and Luke had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to hold back tears. It had been so long since he heard his father’s voice that the sound of it was slightly overwhelming. “Did you get your gift?”

“Yeah,” Luke croaked, hoping his dad wouldn’t be able to pick it up across the lines. “Thanks dad, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Andy said, and Luke could practically hear the smile on his dad’s face. “You wear that to all your auditions, show ‘em what you wanna be. Have you had any auditions lately?” he asked, and Luke told him about the one his mom drove him to, the ones he has lined up, the agent that called a few weeks ago saying that there’s great interest in him. His dad hollered and cheered, told Luke it was only a matter of time now. It was happening.

“I guess so,” Luke said, twirling the phone cable around his fingers and watching it spring back into shape. “Just seems surreal is all.”

“How big is that house you got up there?”

“Huh?” Luke asked. “Oh, not too big, I guess.”

“Think there’ll be enough room for three more over New Years?”

Luke’s grin spread the entire width of his face when he realised what his dad was saying. “For real?” he asked, and bit his lip when his dad started laughing. “I miss you guys.”

“Of course. Think you can handle sharing a room with your brothers for a week without killing each other?”

“It’s the other two you need to worry about,” Luke grumbled.

“Speaking of,” his dad said. “One of the other two wants to talk to you. And it isn’t Ben, because he’s passed out on the sofa. I’ll see you later in the week, okay? I love you.”

“Love you too, dad,” Luke said, before there was a scuffle on the other end of the line which was obviously his dad trying to force Jack onto the phone. Luke pulled the phone from the table and moved to sit on the bottom stair while he waited for someone to speak, and grimaced when he heard the phone clatter against the floor in his old home.

Eventually, Jack spoke. “Hey, little brother. Dad’s making me do this.” There was a hollow thwack, followed by an ‘ow’, and Luke’s father telling Jack to be nice.

“Hello to you, too,” Luke said as he rolled his eyes.

“Suppose I better wish you a merry Christmas and all that, dad’s sending me daggers from the other end of the room.”

Luke chuckled. “Merry Christmas.”

“So, how’s life being a movie star?” Jack asked, and Luke heard him bite into something and start chewing. He scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“It’s cookin’.* And you couldn’t wait until you were off the phone to stuff your face?”

Jack swallowed loudly. “Nope. Now spill. Any girls lining up for you yet?”

For one quick second, Luke’s mind flashed to Michael, and just as quickly as it was there the image of him is gone. It renders him speechless for a second, and he shakes his head to try and clear it. And then he thinks of Sandra, her blonde hair swept into a ponytail, the smell of her perfume, her number scrawled in curly writing on lavender paper that’s still tucked into his jean pocket.

“You’re quiet,” Jack interrupted, and even though they’re on opposite sides of the country, Luke just knows there’s a smile on his brother’s face. “Who is she?” He asked,

Luke sighed and gave in. “Her name is Sandra. I met her at an audition and she gave me her number. Told me to call next time we were driving to Los Angeles.”

“Good work kiddo! Listen, I’m gonna cut out*, there’s only one slice of pavlova left and I want to nab it before Ben wakes up.”

“Where the hell did you lot get pavlova?” Luke asked. “None of you can cook.”

“We went to nana’s for dinner. I think she felt sorry for us, that you stole the only good cook in the family. She sent half her kitchen home with us. I think we’ll be fed until next Christmas!”

*** *** ***

Luke had just changed into his pyjama pants and curled up on the sofa with a tin of the Christmas biscuits and a book when there was a knock on the door. He looked over at Liz who was nursing a glass of wine, and when she shot him a pleading look he got up and dropped his book onto the coffee table. It was just going seven o’clock and he couldn’t imagine anyone calling this late. Especially on Christmas. He pulled the sleeves of his long shirt down to his wrists, preparing for the blast of cold that would come with the open door, before reaching for the knob.

It was Michael. He was huddled on the doorstep, his leather jacket pulled tight around himself to shield him from the worst of the cold, but the bottoms of his jeans had turned black with the wet and his fringe was plastered to his forehead.

“Michael?” Luke said, stepping to the side and gesturing with his arm as an invitation for Michael to enter.

“No, no, I’m just here to-“

“Michael, hon,” Liz said when she poked her head from the living room to see who had called. “Merry Christmas.”

“Same to you, Mrs. Clifford,” Michael said with a polite smile.

“Come in out of the cold, you’ll catch your end out there.”

“Oh, I,” Michael stammered again, looking from Luke to his mother. “I wasn’t going to stay, it being Christmas and all. I just wanted to come over and –“

“Don’t be silly,” Liz cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It’s nice to have someone else around the house. There’s usually more than twice this. How about you two boys head upstairs and I’ll drop up some hot chocolate later?”

Luke grabbed Michael’s wrist and pulled him in so he could close the door. A small dusting of snow had gathered on the mat, and the cold air was starting to replace the heat from the fire. “If you’re sure I’m not in the way,” Michael said, shucking out of his leather jacket. Luke took it from him and hung it on the coat rack to dry.

“Not at all, sweetheart. And Luke, get him a towel.”

Luke put a record on the turntable as Michael towel-dried his hair, and tried his best to dry the bottom of his jeans. Luke smiled when he saw Michael’s fuzzy hair, a little curly and slightly static from the harsh material of the towel. His cheeks were a flushed pink from the sudden heat after being in the cold for so long, and Luke could see that there was still an unmelted snowflake caught in Michael’s eyelashes.

He sat cross-legged on his bed and pulled a pillow onto his lap before he patted the space in front of him for Michael to sit down, too. He did so, keeping the wet cuff of his jeans off Luke’s comforter and swinging his legs over the edge instead.

“How come you walked?” Luke asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the harsh contrast of Michael’s pink cheeks and pale neck.

“You’ve seen my car, right? I wasn’t risking that thing in this weather. Anyway, the walk was nice. Gave me time to clear my head.” Michael reached across himself and grabbed his left shoulder, a small grimace on his face.

“You okay?” Luke asked. “Did something happen?”

“Nah, just Christmas is a bit crazy in my house. My parents are really religious and I lost my taste for it after .. well.. you know. It doesn’t really sit well with them.”

Luke nodded, hugging the pillow to himself tighter. He didn’t really know what to say, what was appropriate to say. So he just said “You weren’t at church. Calum said it wasn’t really your scene.”

 Michael balled his shirtsleeves and shrugged. “Who wants to sit on uncomfortable seats while listening to some old man telling us why we’re all going to hell? I get enough of that, anyway.”

Luke reached across the bed and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “You’re not a bad person, Michael,” he said.

Michael shifted on the bed, lifting himself onto his knees and facing Luke. “It’s Christmas, I didn’t come here to bum you out,” he said with a smile. “I brought something for you.” He reached behind himself and pulled out a parcel that had been tucked between his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. When he handed it to Luke, Luke stared at it for a few seconds before reaching out and taking it. It was warm from where it had been pressed against Michael’s body. Badly wrapped in green paper, the attempted bow a flattened mess.

“I didn’t get you anything,” Luke said, staring at the gift like it was going to grow legs and walk away.

“I didn’t want you to. This is a thank you.”

“For what?” Luke asked, still confused. “I never-“

“You did. You still talk to me, even after the whole, you know, gay thing. And when I freaked out at the party on Halloween you stayed with me. And just for being a friend, I guess.” Michael shrugged like it was no big deal, but Luke could see he was biting the inside of his cheek – a tell tale sign that he was nervous.

“Thanks, Mike.”

“You gonna open it or not, Hemmings?” Michael asked, the small twinkle in his eye and cheeky smirk on his face.

“Good job with the wrapping,” Luke said, pulling at one of the corners that was taped down.

“I’ll take it back,” Michael retorted, eyes watching Luke’s fingers as they tore open the package, until the gift was finally opened and all Luke could do was stare.

“I remembered you told me and Calum about it. Said you wanted to read it but couldn’t get a copy of it anywhere, and your mom wouldn’t give you the money to get it. I was visiting my cousins in Sacramento and saw it in a store there, so I got it for you.”

“Mike,” Luke said, eyes dropping from Michael to the book, back up to Michael. “You really didn’t have to. This is way too much. It’s brand new – it must have cost a lot.”

Michael shook his head. “Nah, I think the guy behind the desk was glad someone was taking it. Said it’s been there since it was published.”

Luke ran his fingers over the gold lettering of the novel, _The Catcher in the Rye*_ written in cursive across the top. “Michael...” Luke whispered before placing the book on his bedside locker, resting against the butt of his lamp, before he crawled over the bed and threw his arms around Michael’s shoulders. Michael stiffened a little underneath his touch, manoeuvring his left shoulder so Luke was no longer pressing on in before relaxing and putting his own arms around Luke’s back.

“Thank you,” Luke whispered into the ear his mouth was pressed against in their position, and he felt Michael shiver against him.

“Don’t mention it,” Michael said, speaking just as low as Luke had.

They eventually moved back from each other, Luke’s arms still wrapped around Michael’s neck, Michael clutching the back of Luke’s t-shirt. Luke could feel his heartbeat starting to get faster, and he was afraid Michael would be able to hear it banging against his ribcage, see the outline of it against his chest. His throat was starting to get dry and scratchy, his lips too, and when he moistened them with his tongue he could feel Michael watching.

“Luke?” Michael said, and suddenly Luke was leaning in. Tightening his hands in Michael’s shirt that was still damp from the snow that had dripped from his hair. “Luke,” Michael said again, putting a palm on Luke’s chest to stop him. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said, his heart racing a million miles a minute. His voice was strained and high, but all he could focus on was the pink of Michael’s lips. “I don’t know, I just, Michael I ..”

There was a knock on his door, and they each moved to opposite ends of the bed so fast that Michael nearly toppled of the edge.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Liz said, opening the door while she balanced a tray with two mugs of hot chocolate on her hip.

“No, mom,” Luke said, eyes wide and terrified that what she almost walked in on was written all over his face.

Michael shook his head vigorously and stood from the bed. “No, I’m sorry Mrs. Hemmings, I really have to go. Sorry about the hot chocolate. I just, I’m sorry.”

Before Liz could even comprehend what had happened Michael had shot down the stairs and out the front door, the sound of it shutting behind him reverberating throughout the whole house.

“Oh,” Liz said. “Well, then, come one downstairs and we’ll drink these together.”

Luke nodded, and waited for her to leave before he ran his hands down his face and tried to steady his breathing. The book still sat on the bedside table, and Luke picked it up and carried it downstairs.

When he walked past the coat stand he noticed that Michael had left without his coat, and the sight of that alone made his stomach twist and cramp.

 

Frank and Bing – Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby. (what voices yum)

Cookin’ – going well

Cut out – leave

The Catcher in the Rye – okay so like this book was banned for ages after it came out and I don’t know why because it isn’t even that bad. But y’all should definitely read it cause it’s awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on tumblr @ t1mburton and we can cry over many things together. xx

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr @t1mburton :)


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